;•  •  •  • 
» » •  •  • 
»  ••  • 


•     *  a 


•    •  •    •     •  ••  .  Vr 

: :  •:  ••:  .•• ••• 

••    •  ••-: •••«  ♦  • 


A 


Search  for  Freedom 


BY  HELEN  WILMANS 


Pos^    ^\p,s.V\eVe^  A^'A^^-^s. 


-.. 


SEA  BREEZE,  FLORIDA : 
FREEDOM  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


CT&75 


COPYRIGHTED,  1898, 
All   rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

Chapter  I. — Chapter  One  Introduces  Two  Important  Char- 
acters— Little  Aunt  Mary  and  Gus    ....        5 

Chapter  II. — "  Smartest  Youngun  'at  Ever  Lived,  B'gosh"      27 

Chapter  III. — A  Love  Letter       .  .  .  .  .53 

Chapter  IV.— The  Goodest  Little  Boy  That  Ever  Lived       .      73 

Chapter  V. — Brother  Findlay  Comes  to  Town  .  .      88 

Chapter  VI.— At  a  Catholic  School       .  .  .  .103 

Chapter  VII.— The  Dalton  Episode      .  .  .  .118 

Chapter  VIII.— Lloyd,   Billy   Wilkes,    and  Sally   Start  a 

Circus      ........    139 

Chapter  IX.— The  Story  of  Ten  Little  Hats    .  .  .161 

Chaptfr  X. — Two  Offers  of  Marriage   ....    180 

Chapter  XL— A  Most  Worshipful  Hero  .  .  .199 

Chapter  XII. — School  Again       .  .  .  .  .215 

Chapter  XIII.— A  Boy  Lover      .  .  .  .  .233 

Chapter  XIV. — "  Fearfully  "  in  Love  ....    251 

Chapter  XV.— A  Broken  Idol     .  .  .  .  .266 

Chapter  XVI.— The  Fetters  Are  Falling  .  .  .282 

Chapter  XVII. — In  the  Reform  Movement      .  .  .    297 

Chapter  XVIII.— A  Glimpse  of  the  Promised  Land  .  .    313 

Chapter  XIX.—  All  Is  Mind :  the  Substance  of  Which 
Worlds  Are  Made  Is  Mental  Substance  :  Thought  Has 
Built  the  Visible  Universe      .....    326 

Chapter  XX. — Coming  to  Florida  ....    340 

Chapter  XXL— A  Vision  of  the  Dauntless  M  I  "        .  .    354 


968263 


f\  5E^^  F°R  FREED°W 


CHAPTER  I. 


CHAPTER    ONE    INTRODUCES    TWO    IMPORTANT    CHARAC- 
TERS— LITTLE   AUNT   M^Itt h\£S^f  GUS.      » 

Not  long  ago  I  read  lie*  opening  chVpfgr'iV.  rf(e 
autobiography  of  a  distinguished  literary  woman. 
Every  page  of  it  and  every  word  of  it  were  spent  in 
apologizing  for  the  egotism  that  must  of  necessity 
be  apparent  in  works  that  naturally  embody  the 
personality  of  the  writer.  As  I  continued  to  read  it  I 
wondered  if  there  was  anything  on  earth  quite  so 
weak,  and  often  so  insincere  as  an  apology.  It  is  a 
confession  of  shame,  either  real  or  hypocritical;  and 
why  should  one  be  ashamed  of  his  personality,  or  why 
should  it  be  considered  the  proper  thing  to  affect 
shame? 

A  book  may  be  of  infinite  worth,  but  the  personality 


6  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

back  of  it  is  what  makes  it  so;  and  it  is  the  glimpses 
of  this  personality  filtering  through  the  book  that 
give  it  its  vital  power  to  enthrall  our  imagination 
and  arouse  our  affection. 

I  had  a  lesson  on  the  subject  of  apologies  that 
taught  me  enough  to  avoid  them  forever.  I  lived  in 
California  and  my  neighbors  were  farmers  and  poor 
people.  Nevertheless,  we  were  social  and  entertained 
each:  ofcher  .Are  Itje^t'.we  could.  It  was  a  matter  of 
ppde.^itJi  fT&^  givje  ^obd;  dinners  to  each  other;  and 
a  dinner  without  fried  chicken,  mashed  potatoes  and 
hot  biscuit,  preserves  and  pound  cake,  golden  coffee 
and  rich  cream,  and  many  other  cherished  delicacies, 
was  really  not  respectable — so  rigorous  was  our  social 
code.  Moreover,  at  these  dinners  the  hostess  usually 
indulged  in  apologies  for  the  many  deficiencies  sup- 
posed to  be  apparent;  thus  leaving  the  impression  that 
she  could  have  done  a  great  deal  better  if  she  had  been 
informed  of  our  coming  beforehand. 

I  was  returning  the  visit  of  one  of  my  neighbors  one 
day  when  I  learned  the  lesson  of  being  above  making 
an  apology  ever  again — except  for  a  wrong  done,  or  a 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  7 

mistake  committed.  The  lady  I  was  visiting  went  out 
to  prepare  dinner,  and  was  quite  a  long  time  about  it. 
This  time  must  have  been  devoted  to  her  perplexity;  it 
certainly  was  not  given  to  her  dinner,  since  she  had 
nothing  but  beans  which  evidently  had  been  boiling 
for  an  hour  before  my  arrival.  There  was  one  cup  of 
coffee,  and  but  one.  No  doubt  it  was  warmed  over 
from  breakfast;  and  it  was  given  to  me.  Her  table- 
cloth was  very  white,  and  everything,  though  exceed- 
ingly poor,  was  neat.  She  was  a  Southern  woman, 
tall  and  dark  and  weather-beaten  in  appearance.  In 
accordance  with  Southern  custom  she  stood  up  while 
the  family  were  at  dinner.  At  first  I  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve it  possible  that  what  I  saw  before  me  was  really 
the  entire  dinner;  simply  beans  seasoned  with  a  small 
piece  of  pork,  and  the  one  cup  of  coffee.  But  this  was 
all;  and  there  stood  the  lady  with  a  palm  leaf  fan  in  her 
hand  fanning  us  while  we  ate.  Not  one  word  of 
excuse  did  she  offer,  though  there  was  a  look  in  her 
eyes  that  went  straight  to  my  heart  and  left  an  in- 
delible impression. 

At  this  time,  after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  all  I 


8  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

can  get  of  that  impression  is  a  sense  of  womanliness 
beyond  the  power  of  words  to  describe.  There  was 
reticence  there,  and  the  pride  of  many  generations  of 
culture,  all  imprisoned  within  her  own  individuality, 
and  never  to  be  betrayed  by  one  word  that  might  seem 
to  reflect  discredit  upon  it — that  sacred  consciousness 
of  beautiful  self-hood  so  plainly  visible  through  the 
pathos  of  her  eyes  and  the  gentle  dignity  of  her  move- 
ments. 

Appearances  might  confess  her  poverty,  but  she 
would  not.  They  might  confess  the  fact  that  her 
husband  was  one  of  the  most  trifling,  dissipated  men 
in  the  community,  but  she  would  not.  They  might 
speak  volumes  of  her  degraded  and  unlovely  life,  but 
she  would  not.  Her  native  queenhood  was  inviolable. 
She  felt  it  to  be  so;  and  what  was  more,  1  felt  it  too; 
and  I  know  to  this  day  that  what  I  dined  upon  was 
not  beans,  but  the  ambrosia  of  the  gods,  and  served  by 
one  of  them. 

And  so  in  the  papers  I  am  writing,  I  shall  give  the 
best  I  have  without  apology.  It  will  be  the  best  I 
have,  because  it  will  be  the  "I"  that  T  am  giving.     In 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  9 

giving  my  "I"  I  shall  disclose  the  "I"  in  you  who  read, 
for  we  are  all  off  one  piece.  And  oh !  a  wonderful 
thing  is  the  "I,"  whether  it  is  my  "I"  or  your  "F;  such 
a  beautiful  thing;  such  a  majestic  thing;  and  so  varied 
in  its  phases;  and  for  all  the  variations  of  it  I  am  so 
thankful  and  so  glad.  No  two  pages  in  any  life  his- 
tory alike,  and  yet  each  one  so  vital,  so  alive! 

This  aliveness!  It  is  this  which  gives  an  autobiog- 
raphy its  charm.  The  individual  is  all  there;  present 
in  his  own  words.  He  brings  himself  with  him  in 
every  page.  And  this  is  saying  wonders;  for  if  a 
person  brings  himself  into  your  presence,  he  has 
brought  a  condensed  world  there  for  your  inspection; 
and  if  you  are  anything  of  a  naturalist  you  cannot 
help  but  be  interested. 

For  my  part  I  am  a  natural-born  naturalist,  and  like 
to  see  the  world  through  many  different  kinds  of 
glasses;  so  when,  instead  of  giving  me  the  glass  of 
her  own  personality  to  see  the  world  in,  the  lady  of 
whom  I  first  spoke  spent  twenty  pages  in  apologizing 
for  the  self-hood  of  herself,  my  interest  was  destroyed 
and  I  read  no  more. 


10  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

But  this  work  I  am  now  writing  is  not  going  to  be 
a  real  autobiography,  but  only  a  sketchy  sort  of 
reminiscence.  I  may  write  away  quite  consecutively 
for  several  chapters,  and  then  jump  whole  years;  and 
perhaps  I  may  go  back  to  these  neglected  years  to  pick 
incidents  out  of  them  later  on.  At  all  events  I  will 
do  the  best  I  can  to  show  how  I  cut  a  trail  for  myself, 
through  jungles  of  errors  and  mistakes,  from  a  land 
of  bondage  to  one  of  comparative  freedom;  a  freedom 
that  continually  grows  more  free,  and  will  no  doubt 
keep  doing  so  while  I  remain  an  honest  searcher  for 
truth. 

I  wonder  if  there  are  many  children  who  feel  them- 
selves to  be  prisoners  all  through  their  childish  years? 
This  is  the  way  I  felt.  I  used  to  hear  my  parents  say, 
"What  a  good  time  the  youngsters  have;  especially 
Helen!  Surely,  childhood  is  the  happiest  period  of 
life." 

Then  I  would  ponder  this  oft-repeated  expression, 
and  sometimes  it  dismayed  me.  If  childhood  was  the 
happiest  part,  what  must  the  rest  be?  For  I  was  not 
happy.     With  everything  to  make  me  happy  I  was 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  11 

still  quietly  unhappy.  I  .felt  myself  hampered  and 
restrained.  There  was  an  internal  restlessness,  as  if 
some  imprisoned  thing  were  trying  to  find  expression 
through  me,  and  could  not. 

And  yet  I  was  more  free  than  ordinary  children  in 
that  age  and  under  similar  conditions;  for  my  mother 
did  not  hold  me  in  check  overmuch,  though  at  the 
time  I  thought  she  did.  There  were  very  few  outward 
restrictions  about  me;  but  I  carried  with  me  always  the 
fettered  feeling  of  one  who  wears  unseen  bonds.  When 
I  played  childish  games  with  others  of  my  own  age, 
my  playing  and  my  enjoyment  seemed  a  pretense  to 
me.  If  I  had  been  an  old  person  indulging  in  infantile 
sports  I  should  not  have  felt  more  out  of  place  than  I 
did.  I  actually  had  a  sense  of  sham3  in  doing  it;  it  all 
seemed  so  foolish;  so  puerile. 

And  yet  I  was  not  precocious.  I  think  my  brain  was 
rather  sluggish,  and  I  was  very  indolent.  I  was  heavy 
in  my  movements  and  disinclined  to  action;  but  I 
doubt  if  a  healthier  child  was  ever  born. 

My  parents  considered  me  thoughtful  because  I 
spent  so  much  of  my  time  sitting  or  lying  around 


12  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

quietly,  and  with  an  appearance  of  being  in  a  deep 
revery  over  something  or  other. 

But  in  this  matter  they  flattered  me,  for  I  cannot 
recall  that  I  ever  thought  much  in  those  days.  But  I 
do  recall  that  I  always  seemed  on  the  verge  of  think- 
ing, and  that  the  thoughts  eluded  me.  Not  that  I 
made  an  effort  to  hold  them  fast,  for  I  did  not.  I 
seemed  to  feel  that  I  would  be  able  to  think  some  day 
and  could  easily  wait. 

It  was  as  if  something  were  ripening  in  my  brain, 
but  was  not  then  ripe.  If  there  is  anything  in  re- 
incarnation it  might  be  believed  that  some  old  spirit 
had  taken  possession  of  my  baby  head,  and  found 
difficulty  in  adapting  itself  to  such  crude,  unmanage- 
able substance  as  existed  there. 

This  doctrine  of  reincarnation  is  a  very  strange  one. 
It  involves  more  than  its  advocates  seem  to  see  in  it; 
but  perhaps  I  do  not  really  know  what  they  do  see. 
At  all  events  I  shall  not  discuss  the  subject  here,  but 
will  try  to  pin  myself  down  to  the  matter  in  hand. 
For  it  seems  to  me  that  if  only  one  person, -who,  from 
the  first,  has  followed  faithfully  in  the  direction  of 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  [£ 

more  intellectual  light,  which  means  more  freedom, 
will  give  a  history  of  the  road  he  has  travelled,  and 
the  obstacles  he  has  overcome,  it  will  be  a  more  prac- 
tical help  to  other  searchers  for  truth  than  the  mere 
cold  enunciation  of  principles,  divorced  from  the  per- 
sonality that  gave  rise  to  them. 

I  recall  how  in  my  baby  years  I  rarely  accepted  the 
opinions  of  others,  but  sought  to  get  at  the  cause  of 
things  myself.  For  instance,  I  was  one  day  in  the 
carriage  with  my  parents  on  the  road  to  Carrni,  where 
my  grandfather  and  grandmother  lived.  I  could  not 
have  been  more  than  three  years  old  at  the  time.  I 
was  beset  with  anxiety  for  fear  the  horses  would  make 
a  mistake,  and  not  take  us  there;  so  I  asked  my  mother 
if  there  was  any  danger  on  this  score.  She  said  uNo; 
that  my  father  was  holding  the  reins  that  guided  the 
horses,  and  that  they  would  surely  go  right.1' 

This  did  not  appear  reasonable  to  me,  and  I  kept 
thinking  and  thinking.  After  a  time  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  on  the  previous  evening  the  stable 
man  must  have  told  the  horses  that  they  were  to  take 
us  to   Carmi  the   next   day.      I   found   no  difficulty 


14  A  SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

iu  believing  this,  and  all  my  anxiety  was  removed. 
I  suppose  I  must  have  manifested  a  good  deal  of 
this  kind  of  reasoning  in  my  early  childhood,  and  that 
its  fallacy  taught  me  to  distrust  my  reasoning  powers. 
Certain  it  is,  I  became  in  time  the  obedient  recipient  of 
all  manner  of  beliefs  that  poured  in  on  me  from  other 
people,  and  my  own  reasoning  faculties  were  dormant 
for  many  years.  If  it  had  not  been  for  this  I  should 
have  escaped  circumstances  that  almost  tortured  the 
life  out  of  me. 

Evidently  I  was  a  child  who  sought  for  the  cause  in 
all  the  events  that  passed  under  my  observation;  but 
because  in  these  early  efforts  I  made  such  mistakes  as 
I  have  spoken  of,  I  became  discouraged,  and  began  to 
doubt  my  ability  to  discriminate  between  right  and 
wrong.  This  lifted  me  off  the  base  of  my  own  in- 
dividuality, and  made  a  mere  dependent  of  me  so  far 
as  my  judgment  was  concerned. 

If  my  natural  tendency  to  do  my  own  thinking  had 
been  properly  directed,  instead  of  being  ridiculed  and 
crushed,  I  should  never  have  become  the  agonized 
victim  of  church  dogma,  and  submitted  to  the  awful 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  15 

belief  of  an  endless  hell  for  those  whose  reasoning 
powers  prevented  them  from  accepting  unproven 
creeds.  At  this  time  I  know  that  it  was  not  I  who 
accepted  these  creeds.  The  "I"  in  me  had  been  set 
aside,  and  the  fears  and  false  beliefs  of  the  world  had 
been  substituted.  It  was  these  fears,  these  false  be- 
liefs that  spoke  and  acted  through  my  bodily  organism 
for  years.  And  the  awakening,  when  at  last  it  came, 
was  as  if  I  had  been  lost  to  myself  for  an  age,  and  had 
been  suddenly,  through  a  certain  overt  act  which  I 
will  tell  of  further  on,  restored  to  myself. 

We  were  a  very  large  family  of  children,  and  our 
father  and  mother  had  been  mere  children  themselves 
when  they  were  married.  I  was  the  second  child  and 
the  eldest  girl.  I  was  the  laziest  little  imp  that  ever 
lived.  If  my  poor  young  mother  sent  me  to  wash  the 
dishes,  I  would  slip  off  and  go  to  the  garret  or  some- 
where else,  and  there  lying  on  the  floor  or  the  grass  I 
would  read  "Arabian  Nights"  the  entire  afternoon. 
I  knew  I  would  get  whipped  when  I  went  to  supper, 
but  I  did  not  seem  to  be  afraid  of  a  whipping,  from 
which  I  infer  that  mother's  whippings  were  very  mild. 


16  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

And,  indeed,  they  must  have  been.  I  remember 
now  how  the  slightest  bit  of  wit  from  us  would  make 
her  laugh.  She  was  a  glorious  laugher,  and  she 
evidently  thought  that  we  were  the  smartest  children 
that  the  world  had  produced.  Gus,  my  elder  brother, 
and  I  used  to  get  together  and  rehearse  something 
that  we  considered  funny  previous  to  entering  her 
presence,  after  we  had  been  disobedient  and  expected 
a  whipping;  and  this  expedient  was  usually  successful. 

But  I  have  an  idea  that  mother  whipped  Gus  of  tener 
and  harder  than  she  did  me.  He  was  more  afraid  of  a 
whipping  than  I  was,  and  I  was  more  afraid  for  him, 
and  early  learned  to  screen  him  by  no  end  of  deceptions. 

This  whipping  we  all  know  to  be  a  very  great  mis- 
take now,  but  at  that  time  it  was  thought  to  be  a 
terrible  thing  not  to  whip  children.  The  people  really 
believed  they  were  earning  some  great  future  reward, 
both  for  themselves  and  the  children,  by  bringing 
them  up  in  fear  of  the  lash.  Poor  Gus  must  have 
been  a  more  timid  child  than  I  was;  and  it  is  the  timid 
children  who  are  most  easily  ruined  by  this  rough 
method  of  punishment.     And  yet  Gus  was  not  ruined. 


A    SKAKCH     FOB    FKKKDOM.  17 

I  remember  one  time  when  mother  had  sent  us  all  to 
Sunday  school,  and  when  I  made  her  believe  I  had  the 
colic  and  remained  at  home  (I  always  hated  Sunday 
school),  that  long  before  it  was  time  for  the  children 
to  return,  Gus  rushed  into  the  sitting  room  exclaiming, 
uOh!  mother,  mother,  it's  in  thfl  lesson  to-day  where 
old  Solomon — and  he  is  the  wisest  old  fellow  that  ever 
lived — said,  'spoil  the  rod  and  spare  the  child]  and  now 
you  can't  whip  us  any  more  forever." 

I  think  mother  felt  a  genuine  heart  pang  as  she 
looked  in  the  boy's  bright,  earnest,  handsome  face. 
She  put  her  arms  around  him  and  told  him  of  his  mis- 
take. But  she  had  to  get  the  Bible  and  read  it  with 
him  before  he  was  convinced.  He  was  greatly  dis- 
appointed, and  T  suppose  he  thought  there  was  no  help 
for  him  but  in  being  good — a  monotonous  alternative. 

Mother  had  the  belief  that  children  must  not  be 
praised;  that  praise  would  ruin  them.  So  she  told  us 
of  our  faults  and  failings,  and  used  such  persistent 
energy  in  destroying  everything  like  vanity  in  us, 
that  I  really  believe  she  would  have  crushed  every  one 
of  us  to  an  extent  that  would  have  rendered  us  unfit 


18  A    SEAKCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

for  meeting  men  and  women  as  equals  in  later  life,  if 
it  had  not  been  for  a  "special  providence"  in  the  shape 
of  "little  aunt  Mary." 

Little  aunt  Mary  was  two  years  older  than  Gus,  and 
four  years  older  than  I  was.  She  was  the  youngest 
child  of  her  mother,  who  was  dead,  and  she  owed  her 
special  rearing  to  the  indulgent  influence  of  her 
father,  one  of  the  most  magnificent  specimens  of  man- 
hood that  ever  lived.  Oh!  if  I  only  had  time  to  write 
a  character  sketch  of  this  loving-hearted,  great,  kingly 
soul,  I  could  put  an  inspiration  in  it  that  no  personal 
experiences  of  my  own  have  power  to  evoke. 

The  way  grandfather  brought  up  little  aunt  Mary 
was  to  let  her  bring  herself  up.  They  did  not  live 
with  us,  but  came  often  and  made  long  visits;  and 
then  there  were  months  at  a  time  when  grandfather 
was  absent  on  business,  when  little  aunt  Mary  was 
put  under  mother's  care.  This  little  aunt  was  a  phe- 
nomenon. Nobody's  opinion  had  the  slightest  effect 
on  her  character  or  conduct.  For  this  reason  I  think 
she  may  have  been  very  annoying  to  her  elders.  She 
did  not  seem  to  know  she  had  any  elders;  and  the  way 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  19 

she  expressed  her  opinion  of  their  weaknesses  actually 
carried  their  feelings  for  her  clear  over  the  point  of 
exaspiration  into  the  region  of  perpetual  laughter. 
Mother  always  laughed  when  she  spoke  of  her,  but 
there  was  an  expression  of  perplexity  in  the  laugh,  as 
any  one  could  see. 

Mother  never  seemed  to  try  to  establish  any  au- 
thority over  little  aunt  Mary;  and  I  do  believe  that 
there  was  something  in  the  sphere  of  the  child's 
thought  that  prevented  it.  She  was  a  queenly  child. 
She  was  utterly  unconscious  of  her  own  ignorance, 
and  entirely  loyal  to  some  secret  sense  of  self-respect. 
She  was  not  a  pretty  child,  though  she  thought  she 
was;  and  she  grew  into  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
women  that  ever  was  seen.  She  was  never  insolent, 
and  was  too  fearless  to  lie,  or  even  to  equivocate;  but 
she  held  her  own  against  my  mother's  sneers  and  ac- 
cusations of  vanity  by  the  frankest  avowals,  and  sus- 
tained her  avowals  by  such  argument  as  her  childish 
brain  could  suggest,  and  I  never  saw  her  angry  in  my 
life.  She  reigned — a  veritable  empress — among  us 
children,  of  whom  there  were  several  by  this  time,  and 


20  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

more  coming.  We  were  actual  servants  for  her.  She 
did  what  she  pleased  with  us,  and  we  were  proud  to  be 
considered  worthy  of  waiting  on  her,  and  of  receiving 
her  protection  in  return.  For  she  did,  indeed,  protect 
us.  If  mother  perceived  the  least  particle  of  vanity 
cropping  out  in  one  of  us,  she  nipped  it  in  the  bud  in- 
stantly. And  I  can  remember  how  little  aunt  Mary 
could  don  her  queenly  manner  on  such  occasions,  and 
with  a  face  perfectly  free  from  fear  would  say,  for  in- 
stance, "Sister,  why  do  you  say  that  Helen  has  red  hair? 
You  know  it  is  the  poet's  rarest  golden.1'  (She  had  read 
such  stuff  as  this  out  of  our  fairy  stories.)  "And  you 
know,  sister,  that  Helen  is  a  beautiful  child,  and  the 
best  little  girl  to  mind  me  that  there  is  in  the  family." 
It  made  no  difference  what  mother  said  after  this. 
Aunt  Mary  would  soon  be  wearing  my  best  string  of 
beads,  leaving  me  destitute  of  ornament.  Mother — 
who  was  really  sweet-tempered — often  laughed  and 
called  me  a  little  dunce;  but  aunt  Mary  would  again 
come  to  my  defence,  and  prove  by  argument  that  con- 
vinced me — if  no  one  else — that  I  was  a  child  of  vast 
intelligence. 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  21 

Gus  had  now  reached  an  age  when  he  might  have 
become  unmanageable,  if  it  had  not  been  for  little 
aunt  Mary.  Mother's  stringent  efforts  to  keep  him 
at  home  and  away  from  other  boys  were  making  him 
sly.  He  had  begun  to  have  many  a  stolen  pleasure, 
and  to  deceive  mother  as  much  as  possible.  Moreover, 
he  had  roped  me  into  his  assistance  in  this  deception, 
so  that  when  he  needed  some  one  to  prove  an  alibi  for 
him,  a  small  amount  of  training  would  make  me  en- 
tirely competent  for  the  transaction.  I  was  secretly 
afraid  to  tell  a  lie,  for  I  had  a  wholesome  dread  of  the 
punishment  attached  to  such  transgressions,  namely, 
that  the  liar  "has  his  part  in  the  lake  that  burneth 
with  brimstone  forever,"  but  that  seemed  a  good  way 
off,  whereas  Gus's  whjpping  was  a  sure  thing  and  very 
close  at  hand.  Then,  too,  I  was  very  young,  and  Gus 
had  promised  me  faithfully  a  hundred  times  that  if  I 
died  and  went  to  the  "bad  place"  that  he  would  go 
there  with  me  and  whip  the  devil  and  all  his  imps,  and 
bring  me  home  again. 

The  supreme  trust  little  girls  have  in  their  older 
brothers  is  almost  pathetic.     Gus  lied  to  me,  and  I  lied 


22  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

to  mother  for  him  with  great  willingness;  and  he  spent 
as  much  time  with  bad  boys  as  he  pleased.  But  little 
aunt  Mary  changed  all  this.  She  told  him  that  she 
wanted  him  to  stay  in  of  evenings  and  entertain  her. 
She  said  she  was  a  fairy  queen,  and  had  to  have  her  sub- 
jects about  her.  She  told  him  that  there  was  no  boy 
in  all  the  town  that  would  compare  with  him.  She 
said  she  loved  to  look  at  him  because  he  was  so  pretty. 
And  Gus  stayed  at  home  of  evenings  to  give  little 
aunt  Mary  a  chance  to  admire  his  beauty.  She  made 
him  read  out  loud  to  her  and  me,  though  he  was  a 
poor  reader  and  hated  his  books  like  poison.  But 
little  aunt  Mary  was  always  acting  a  part  in  obedience 
to  some  secret  thought  of  her  own;  a  thought  that 
placed  her  on  some  high  pinnacle  in  authority,  and 
rendered  the  presence  of  obedient  worshipers  neces- 
sary. She  made  use  of  us  to  the  utmost  extent  of  her 
power;  but  she  would  not  let  others  do  it.  If  ever  for 
a  moment  one  of  us  rebelled,  she  used  argument  and 
flattery  to  conquer  us,  and  this  succeeded.  She  was 
never  angry,  and  she  was  never  unpleasant  in  the  ex- 
hibition of  her  power. 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  23 

If  mother  reproved  us,  aunt  Mary  remonstrated. 
"You  ought  not  to  say  such  things,  sister,"  she  would 
say  to  mother,  "it  sounds  too  hard.  You  ought  not  to 
hurt  your  children's  feelings.  They  are  such  good 
little  things,  and  so  pretty  and  smart.1' 

Mother's  ever  ready  laugh  was  the  usual  response  to 
this  kind  of  thing;  and  I  really  expect  she  was  pleased 
to  have  aunt  Mary  praise  us.  At  all  events  there  was 
a  decided  effect  produced;  for  often  when  some  of  the 
country  people,  who  came  to  our  store  to  trade,  and 
remained  to  dine  with  us,  would  say,  "What  a  pity  your 
gal  has  got  red  hair,  'Lizabeth;  she  ain't  nigh  so  likely 
as  the  boy."  Mother  would  answer  quite  earnestly, 
"Her  hair  is  not  red.  Can't  you  see  for  yourself  that 
it  is  the  pure  golden  of  the  poets?" 

But  still  she  never  admitted  that  any  of  us  were  at 
all  good  looking  except  in  defence,  when  #we  had  been 
attacked. 

Little  aunt  Mary  was  an  artist.  Though  she  strictly 
avoided  doing  anything  useful,  she  always  took  a  ma- 
ternal survey  of  us  when  we  were  dressed  for  Sunday 
school,  and  gave  the  finishing  touch  to  our  toilets.     In 


24  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

me  she  would  usually  adjust  my  bonnet  so  as  to  make 
a  coquetish  display  of  my  curls.  For  Gus  she  would 
pull  down  the  waist  of  his  jacket,  and  punch  the  dim- 
ple in  his  cheek  a  little  deeper;  and  so  on  down  to  the 
baby,  who  was  always  flattered  by  any  attention  from 
her.  I  have  seen  a  six-months-old  baby  stop  crying 
when  aunt.  Mary  entered  the  room,  and  look  at  her 
with  round,  inquiring  eyes  as  if  asking  what  it  could 
do  to  oblige  her.  Aunt  Mary  was  always  compli- 
mentary to  the  baby  in  a  grave,  queenly  way,  but 
never  took  it  in  her  arms,  though  the  little  thing  often 
wished  to  go  to  her. 

The  fact  is,  this  child  was  a  queen.  I  remember 
that  on  one  occasion  she  had  Gus  and  me  bring  up 
empty  dry  goods  boxes  into  one  of  the  upper  rooms,  and 
cover  them  with  scraps  of  wall  paper  and  tinsel  and 
bows  of  old  ribbon  for  her  throne,  where  she  wore  an 
apron  hind  side  before  for  a  trail,  and  sat  in  state, 
while  we  waited  on  her.  It  was  on  this  day  that  we 
pulled  the  icing  off  of  mother's  big  company  cake,  and 
brought  it  and  offered  it  to  her  on  our  knees.  It 
seemed  to  us  a  great  act  of  condescension  on  her  part 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  25 

to  eat  it;  but  she  did  eat  it,  though  with  a  superb  in- 
difference that  left  the  impression  that  nothing  was 
good  enough  for  her. 

Afterwards  when  confronted  with  the  theft,  Gus 
lied  with  great  nimbleness,  and  I  followed  suit. 

Little  aunt  Mary  was  the  smallest  of  us  three 
children.  Gus  was  about  an  inch  taller  than  she  was; 
I  was  about  her  height,  but  weighed  nearly  twice  as 
much,  and  was  usually  called  "Fatty."  Small  and 
delicate  looking  as  aunt  Mary  was  when  a  child,  she 
grew  into  a  splendidly  developed  woman,  several  inches 
taller  than  I  am. 

Little  aunt  Mary  never  failed  to  come  to  our 
assistance  when  we  were  cast  down,  which  was  quite 
often,  as  mother  believed  it  to  be  her  duty  to  take  the 
wind  out  of  our  sails  whenever  she  perceived  any  wind 
in  them.  At  such  times  Gus,  who  was  a  sensitive 
child,  would  cry  bitterly;  and  I,  who  was  not  sensitive, 
and  cared  very  little  for  mother's  opinion  at  that 
time,  would  cry  in  sympathy  with  him.  Then  aunt 
Mary  would  say,  "Why,  little  folks,  sister  don't  under- 
stand either  of  you.      The  reason  she  has  not  got  a 


26  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

better  opinion  of  you  is  because  she  don't  know  much 
herself.  You  are  really  lovely  children.  Of  course 
you  are  not  so  pretty  and  smart  as  I  am,  but  when 
you  get  as  old  as  I  am,  you  will  be;  that  is,  if  you  are 
good  and  mind  all  I  tell  you." 

How  my  heart  would  swell  with  gratitude  when  she 
would  say  such  things  to  us,  and  Gus's  handsome  dark 
eyes  would  be  so  soft  and  luminous  that  his  face  was 
angelic;  for  he  was  really  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
boys  that  ever  lived,  and  looked  like  an  infant  god  in 
comparison  with  little  aunt  Mary;  but  I  did  not  draw 
comparisons  then.  I  took  aunt  Mary  at  her  own 
valuation,  and  prayed  every  night,  after  my  other 
prayer  was  said,  to  be  made  like  her. 


CHAPTER  II. 


"smartest  youngun  'at  ever  lived,  b'gosh." 
None  of  us  liked  Sunday  school.  Perhaps  I  should 
have  said  in  the  first  part  of  this  sketch  that  I  was 
born  in  Fairfield,  Illinois;  and,  at  the  time  of  which  I 
am  writing,  the  town  did  not  contain  more  than  three 
hundred  people.  There  was  no  church  there,  but  an 
occasional  preacher  preached  in  the  court  house.  Sun- 
day school  was  also  held  in  the  court  house,  and  aunt 
Sally  Linthecum  was  the  president,  vice-president, 
superintendent  and  teacher. 

She  was  not  my  aunt,  but  was  called  aunt  Sally  by 
everybody.  She  was  an  old  maid  near  fifty  years  of 
age  at  this  time.  She  was  tall,  full-muscled  and 
strong.  Her  hair  was  very  light  colored,  but  not  gray, 
and  she  was  really  a  wonderfully  handsome  blond.  It 
was  with  difficulty  that  she  could  read;  but  she  was 
very  religious,  and  had  started  the  Sunday  school  her- 
self.     As  I  remember  now,  it  seems  to  me  that  aunt 

27 


28  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

Sally  had  complete  control  of  the  whole  town.  I 
cannot  recall  that  I  went  anywhere  without  seeing 
her;  and  wherever  I  saw  her  she  was  in  command — 
doing  something  herself,  and  giving  directions  to 
others.  She  presided  at  marriages,  births  and  funerals. 
She  looked  after  the  morals  of  the  entire  community. 
I  do  not  know  in  what  spirit  her  ministrations  were 
received,  but  I  believe  she  was  rather  regarded  as  a 
necessary  evil. 

At  Sunday  school  the  children — about  thirty — sat 
on  benches  that  were  destitute  of  backs,  and  read  a 
verse  apiece  in  the  Bible.  Never  knowing  our  lessons, 
Gus  and  I  used  to  look  along  the  class  and  count  noses, 
and  then  count  verses  so  as  to  discover  the  verse  that 
would  come  to  us.  Then  we  would  study  it  in- 
dustriously and  be  in  good  shape  to  read  it  creditably 
when  our  time  came,  unless  it  had  hard  words  in  it. 
Whenever  we  came  to  a  hard  word  we  said,  "Latin, 
skip  it,"  and  skipped  on  to  the  next  word.  As  aunt 
Sally  did  not  know  the  difference,  it  often  happened 
that  there  were  more  "Latin,  skip  its"  in  the  Bible 
lesson  than  anything  else. 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  29 

All  this  passed  off  well  enough;  but  when  the  boys 
began  to  trade  marbles  and  to  eat  green  apples  on  the 
sly,  there  was  a  row.  Many  a  time  I  have  seen  the 
whole  school  in  commotion.  Some  of  the  scholars  in 
trying  to  slip  out  were  collared  and  brought  back  and 
tied  to  the  bench  legs  with  strong  cords  fished  out  of 
aunt  Sally's  pocket.  Others  were  taken  across  her 
lap  and  well  spanked  with  her  slipper.  She  was 
spanking  Gus  one  day  when  my  little  sister  Lib  and  I 
remonstrated.  We  slipped  down  off  the  high  bench 
and  went  to  her,  holding  each  other's  hands  in  order  to 
strengthen  our  courage  for  the  rebellion  we  con- 
templated. We  were  both  crying.  Gus  was  squirming 
and  making  a  noise  loud  enough  to  wreck  the  roof.  I 
raised  a  little  paw  that  looked  like  a  dimpled  white 
satin  pin-cushion  and  struck  aunt  Sally  on  the  knee, 
putting  about  one  mouse  power  in  the  blow.  Lib 
raised  another  small  bunch  of  dimples  and  struck  her 
on  the  other  knee.  Aunt  Sally  would  not  have  known 
it  if  she  had  not  seen  it. 

"Mean  old  thing,"  I  said.    "Mean  old  fing,"  said  Lib. 

"Sass  me,  will  ye,"  said  aunt  Sally,  dropping  Gus 


30  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

and  grabbing  us.  She  held  us  both  in  one  hand  while 
she  searched  her  pockets  for  a  cord.  The  cord  was  all 
in  use.  Undaunted  by  this  deprivation  she  lifted  her 
skirts  and  took  off  a  garter  made  of  flannel  listing 
about  two  yards  long.  She  tied  me  to  the  bench  with 
it;  and  then  taking  her  other  garter  she  tied  Lib  up 
also. 

I  do  not  remember  how  this  escapade  terminated; 
but  really  it  is  not  an  overdrawn  picture  of  aunt 
Sally's  Sunday  school. 

A  year  or  two  later  we  had  a  respectable  Sunday 
school,  conducted  on  regulation  principles;  and  we 
were  compelled  to  go  to  it.  This  latter  school  was  so 
much  more  uneventful  than  aunt  Sally's,  and  so  much 
duller,  with  such  a  dearth  of  stolen  fun,  that  we  all 
looked  back  upon  aunt  Sally's  school  with  that  yearn- 
ing regret  one  feels  for  a  joy  that  has  gone  never  to 
return. 

I  have  said  that  I  would  not  do  any  housework  un- 
less actually  forced  to  do  it.  But  there  was  one  thing 
I  would  do.  I  took  good  care  of  the  children.  The 
child  next  younger  than  I  was  Lib,  one  of  the  fairest 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  31 

little  blonds  I  ever  saw;  next  to  her  came  Lloyd,  and 
then  Ivens,  then  four  little  girls,  Emma,  Julia  and 
her  twin  sister  who  died  young,  and  last  of  all  baby 
Clem.     There  were  nine  of  us. 

I  was  only  a  baby  myself  when  the  responsibility  of 
the  younger  baby  began  to  weigh  on  my  mind,  and  I 
would  rock  the  cradle  by  the  hour  without  being  told 
to  do  it.  As  the  number  of  children  increased,  my 
cares  increased.  It  was  hardly  possible  to  see  me 
without  a  baby  in  my  arms,  and  one  or  two  others 
tagging  after  me.  Even  in  my  extreme  fealty  to 
aunt  Mary  they  were  not  forgotten.  I  was  a  slave  to 
the  little  things,  but  did  not  seem  to  know  it.  It  was 
my  love  for  them  that  enslaved  me,  rather  than  any 
compulsion  from  my  mother.  But  it  must  have  been 
an  immense  relief  to  her  to  have  some  one  with  them 
she  could  trust  as  she  trusted  'me;  and  I  have  no  doubt 
but  this  is  the  reason  she  was  so  lenient  with  me  in 
the  matter  of  dish  washing  and  other  household  work. 

I  was  rather  disinclined  to  activity.  I  did  not  climb 
trees  and  indulge  in  sports  that  called  for  much 
exertion.     I  followed  the  other  children  rather  as  a 


32  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

protector  than  anything  else.  Wherever  they  were  .( 
was  close  at  hand  with  the  baby  in  my  arms.  Their 
childish  plays  amused  me,  and  I  was  a  great  laugher; 
"The  happiest  hearted  child  on  earth,"  the  neighbors 
used  to  say;  but  I  knew  it  was  not  so.  There  was 
always  the  pressure  of  some  undeveloped  force  in  my 
brain,  and  it  pushed  me  forward  to — I  did  not  know 
what.  But  it  was  forever  there  urging  me  on  like  an 
uneasy  conscience;  and  I  felt  that  I  was  loitering,  and 
a  fugitive  from  duty.     How  did  I  get  such  an  idea? 

I  cannot  remember  wheti  I  learned  to  read.  I  was 
a  great  reader,  though  our  collection  of  books  was 
meager — "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  "Fox's  Book  of  Mar- 
tyrs," that  I  hated  and  finally  destroyed  bit  by  bit  on 
the  sly.  The  "Arabian  Nights"  I  read  more  than 
anything  else.  I  read  this  book  out  loud  to  the 
children.  It  was  a  very  old  edition,  but  elaborately 
illustrated.  We  might  be  seen  out  on  the  grass  on 
our  stomachs  with  our  heads  in  the  centre  of  a  radiat- 
ing circle,  ending  in  several  pairs  of  feet,  all  of  us 
intent  upon  the  development  of  one  of  the  startling 
stories. 


\    3RARCB    FOB    FREEDOM.  33 

I  read  these  stories  all  the  more  to  the  children  be- 
cause they  had  power  to  hold  them  in  my  sight,  and  I 
was  never  easy  if  part  of  them  were  gone.  I  carried 
the  responsibility  of  the  children,  I  believe,  much  more 
than  mother  did;  though  probably  she  would  have 
been  equally  as  anxious  about  them  if  it  had  not  been 
for  her  supreme  trust  in  me. 

Having  my  bump  of  ideality  developed  by  such  read- 
ing, I  soon  began  to  compose  stories  for  them.  I 
expect  these  stories  were  queer  combinations  of  fairies, 
griffins,  magicians  and  monsters,  but  they  delighted 
the  little  ones.  My  reputation  as  a  story  teller  spread 
through  the  town,  and  often  I  had  dozens  of  eager 
listeners.  I  was  greatly  praised  for  my  skill  and  be- 
came a  centre  of  attraction  for  all  the  small  folk  of 
the  village.  After  a  short  experience  with  this  thing, 
I  became  ambitious  and  began  to  illustrate  my  tales  as 
I  told  them.  A  pencil  and  a  blank  book  were  riches 
to  me  then.  I  could  not  often  obtain  the  latter.  But 
I  had  pencils  enough,  and  I  used  the  margins  of  my 
school  books  for  my  illustrations.  Down  one  margin 
and  around  the  bottom  and  up  the  other  side  my  in- 


34  A   SEARCH   FOR  FREEDOM. 

terminable  caravan  of  "what  is  its"  wound  their  way. 
Elephants,  lions  and  tigers,  fairies,  goblins  and  demons 
were  all  in  the  procession  that  only  ended  with  the 
last  page  of  the  book.  These  figures  were  very  small, 
of  course,  but  many  of  them  were  strikingly  like  what 
I  intended  them  for.  I  drew  them  with  astonishing 
rapidity,  my  tongue  running  on  endlessly  in  description 
of  the  story  as  I  continued  to  draw.  I  think  there 
was  real  merit  in  my  drawing. 

I  began  to  get  a  local  reputation  as  an  artist;  and 
sometimes  I  ventured  to  take  a  portrait  of  some  pretty 
baby,  which  I  colored  out  of  a  ten  cent  paint  box.  I 
was  considered  a  genius  by  the  ignorant  country 
people  of  whom  the  town  was  composed;  and  one 
might  have  thought  their  praise  would  be  greatly 
prized  by  me.  But  for  some  reason  or  other  1  did  not 
care  for  it'.  I  was  so  intent  oU  expressing  my  little 
ideas  by  tongue  and  pencil  that  I  scarcely  knew  what 
people  said  of  me.  I  had  grown  to  be  a  very  busy 
child  in  my  own  way.  I  had  become  self-centered— 
sufficient  unto  myself — partly  from  natural  tendency, 
and  partly    from    little  aunt  Mary's  training  that 


A  8EARCH   FOR  FREEDOM.  35 

rendered  me  first  indifferent  to  the  adverse  opinion  of 
those  about  me,  and  afterwards  rather  indifferent  to 
their  good  opinion. 

I  made  no  effort  to  attract  any  body's  notice.  I 
was  full  of  my  own  ideas,  and  was  always  trying  to 
work  them  out.  At  this  time  the  pressure  of  that 
strange  mental  force,  which  had  so  often  seemed  to  be 
driving  me,  was  less.  It  was  outflowing  in  congenial 
expression;  it  was  partly  appeased.  I  was  becoming 
more  free;  less  pent  up  in  my  organism. 

But  though  I  made  no  effort  to  attract  attention, 
and  was  happier  with  my  drawing  materials  on  the 
floor,  and  the  baby  seated  near,  than  when  surrounded 
by  crowds  of  admiring  urchins,  yet  I  was  the  attract- 
ing centre  on  all  occasions.  Children  abandoned  their 
play  to  congregate  around  me  and  see  and  hear  what 
I  was  saying  and  doing.  I  did  not  need  nor  want 
them,  but  they  came.  I  have  since  discovered  the  law 
in  this  matter.  Intentness  of  purpose  concentrates 
the  faculties  of  a  person.  Such  a  person  becomes  a 
magnet.  Knowing  this,  anyone  can  become  a  magnet 
through  the  practice  of  concentration.     This  power 


36  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

is  developed  through  the  study  of  Mental  Science. 
I  seemed  to  have  it  naturally  when  a  child.  Later 
in  life  I  think  I  lost  it;  but  now,  with  the  knowledge 
of  how  to  regain  it,  it  is  coming  back  in  great  force. 

Self-centered  children  are  more  or  less  indifferent  to 
praise  and  blame.  Among  my  own  children  there  was 
one  who  was  wonderfully  self-centered.  Lying  on  the 
floor,  with  her  fat  legs  turned  up  over  her  back,  mold- 
ing pigs  and  horses  out  of  the  inside  of  an  underbaked 
biscuit,  it  was  impossible  to  attract  her  attention  from 
her  work.  She  was  so  sweet  and  fair,  and  so  entirely 
independent,  that  she  drew  our  hearts  most  powerfully. 
To  pick  her  up  and  half  smother  her  with  kisses  was 
a  temptation  that  some  of  us  could  not  resist. 

"Top  it!  top  it!  Do  way,  put  me  down;  me  'pises  to 
be  tissed;  now  don't  oo  do  it  adin."  Such  remarks  as 
these  were  the  only  return  we  got  for  our  love.  And 
this  child,  whose  greatest  wish  was  to  be  let  alone, 
was  followed  and  watched  with  deep  interest  by  all 
the  other  children  near.  She  was  self-centered.  She 
drew  to  herself  all  those  who  were  less  self-centered 
than  she  was.  She  was  always  busy,  always  working 
out  some  idea  of  her  own. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  37 

I  wonder  if  anyone  is  interested  in  this  "Meander- 
ing Mike"  of  a  narrative.  I  stop  writing  occasionally 
to  ask  this  question;  and  then  I  find  myself  smiling 
as  I  recall  some  episode  of  child  character  that  once 
passed  under  my  observation,  perhaps  along  time  ago. 
For  I  have  always  been  a  close  observer  of  children, 
and  I  have  had  more  good  laughs  at  the  little  darlings 
than  at  all  other  things  in  life  put  together.  I  could 
fill  a  book  with  their  absurdities,  their  charming 
characteristics  and  their  quaint  oddities,  and  sometimes 
I  have  thought  I  would  do  it. 

Up  to  the  age  of  perhaps  nine  or  ten  years  I  had 
very  little  respect  for  what  was  called  the  truth.  I  am 
sure  that  I  weighed  matters  in  my  mind  and  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  lying  was  not  only  easier,  but 
more  comfortable  all  round  than  seeing  the  children 
whipped,  or  even  scolded  or  punished.  I  had  to  choose 
between  two  disagreeable  alternatives,  and  I  chose 
that  which  best  suited  my  feelings.  It  is  true  that  I 
frequently  wabbled  a  little  in  my  choice  when  mother 
held  the  fear  of  hell  fire  before  my  eyes,  but  this  fear 
had  not  taken  a  deep  hold  on  me  then,  though  it  did 
so  later. 


38  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

I  remember  on  one  occasion  that  she  held  out  a 
strong  incentive  to  me  to  tell  the  truth.  She  said 
that  if  I  confessed  a  lie  after  I  had  told  it  God  would 
forgive  me,  and  that  I  would  be  saved.  This  set  me  to 
thinking,  and  I  concluded  that  my  best  plan  was  to  lie 
first  and  confess  afterwards,  and  so  save  my  own  soul 
as  well  as  my  brother's  body. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  up  to  this  time  I  really 
was  not  much  afraid  of  the  "bad  place,"  because  I  was 
quite  sure  that  Gus  could  wipe  it  out,  root  and  branch, 
before  it  could  hurt  me.  And  yet  I  could  see  that 
there  might  be  an  easier  way  of  dodging  it,  and 
mother's  suggestion  appealed  to  me  as  decidedly  busi- 
ness like;  so  I  tried  it  a  short  time  afterwards. 

One  day  I  had  been  drawing  the  "long  bow"  more 
than  usual.  Everything  had  gone  wrong  with  the 
children,  and  mother  had  the  headache  so  that  her 
nerves  were  unstrung.  I  never  remember  a  day  when 
she  took  down  the  rawhide  from  its  nail  so  often.  I 
was  almost  wild  and  lied  right  and  left  recklessly. 

That  night  I  was  awakened  by  a  terrific  storm  of 
thunder  and  lightning.      It  filled  me  with  fear,  and 


A  8EARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  89 

made  all  previous  descriptions  of  the  "bad  place"  a 
terrible  reality.  I  began  to  think  that  I  needed  for- 
giveness very  much  indeed.  I  slipped  out  of  bed  and 
went  into  mother's  room. 

"Mother,"  I  said,  "I  have  been  telling  a  great  many 
stories,  and  I  want  to  confess  them." 

"Tell  me  all  about  them,"  said  mother. 

Then  she  waited,  and  I  waited.  "Well,  goon,"  said 
mother. 

I  had  not  thought  what  to  tell  her,  and  now  that  I 
did  think,  I  could  recall  nothing  that  would  not  involve 
some  of  the  children.     I  was  sure  this  would  not  do. 

"Go  on,  Helen,"  said  mother. 

I  knew  in  a  moment  that  I  must  trust  my  wits;  so 
I  said:  "When  you  told  me  the  other  day  that  I 
should  not  go  blackberrying  with  the  children,  I 
went,  and  then  told  you  that  I  did  not  go.1' 

"I  can't  remember  that  I  told  you  not  to  go.  What 
day  was  it?" 

"Oh!  one  day  not  long  ago." 

"Not  long  ago?  Why,  I  am  sure  I  am  always  glad 
when  you  take  them  away  and  keep  them  from  bother- 
ing me.     What  day  was  it?" 


40  k  SEARCH  FOR  FREEDOM. 

"Ohl  not  long  ago;  just  the  other  day.  Oh!  yes,  it 
"was  last  summer,  or  summer  before  last;  I  remember 
now." 

"Very  well,"  said  mother,  "you  are  a  good  little 
girl  to  confess  it,  and  God  will  forgive  you." 

This  was  encouraging.  It  raised  my  spirits  and  lim- 
bered up  my  imagination  to  its  work,  so  that  1  com- 
posed another  lie,  and  told  it  with  great  glibness.  She 
praised  me  again.  Then  I  told  her  another,  and 
several  others.  In  the  flashes  of  lightning  I  could 
see  the  bright  eyed  baby  sitting  up  in  bed  watching 
me,  and  listening.  I  had  waked  him  up.  I  could  see 
mother's  interested  face  high  up  on  the  pillow,  but 
father's  face  I  could  not  see.  I  hoped  he  was  asleep. 
He  was  a  man  of  irrepressible  humor,  and  I  felt  un- 
easy about  his  hearing  my  confessions.  As  these 
confessions  proceeded  there  came  at  last  the  gurgling 
sound  of  laughter  that  could  no  longer  be  suppressed. 
"Send  her  to  bed,  Lib,"  said  father;  "don't  you  know 
the  little  monkey  is  making  that  up  as  she  goes 
along?" 

"Oh!"  I  cried,  "I  am  afraid  to  go  to  bed  for  fear  the 
devil  will  get  me." 


A    SEARCH     FOR    FKKKDOM.  41 

Then  he  got  up  and  took  me  by  the  hand.  "Will 
the  devil  get  me?"  I  asked. 

"Damn  the  devil,"  he  said. 

Mother  groaned.  I  was  horrified.  It  was  the  first 
time  I  had  ever  heard  him  swear.  And  then  to  think 
he  had  sworn  about  so  influential  a  character  as  the 
devil  was  too  awful.  I  expected  the  floor  to  open  and 
swallow  us  all  up.     I  screamed  hysterically. 

He  took  me  in  his  arms  soothingly  and  carried  me 
up  stairs  and  slept  with  me  until  morning. 

It  is  astonishing  that  the  majority  of  parents  know 
so  little  of  the  power  of  terror  over  the  minds  of  their 
children.  A  child's  imagination  is  so  strong  and  mas- 
terful that  it  needs  only  a  suggestion  of  something 
frightful  to  fire  it  to  the  verge  of  insanity.  Nobody 
knows  what  sufferings  the  little  ones  undergo  from 
this  one  source.  There  is  no  offense  for  which  I  would 
discharge  a  nurse  or  attendant  so  promptly  as  for  an 
attempt  to  frighten  a  child. 

That  night  before  I  fell  asleep  my  father  told  me 
there  was  no  devil  and  no  hell;  but  his  words  had  little 
effect  upon  me  in  comparison  with  mother's  fixed  con- 


42  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

viction.  I  knew  that  my  father  often  spoke  impul- 
sively, and  that  mother  treated  many  of  his  assertions 
with  marked  incredulity;  so  I  took  sides  with  her  be- 
cause her  faith  expressed  my  own  fears,  and  I  was 
afraid  not  to  fear.  And  yet  it  was  not  until  I  was 
some  years  older  that  this  horrid  doctrine  began  to 
poison  my  mind  in  a  way  that  almost  wrecked  my 
reason. 

Little  aunt  Mary  was  away  from  us  a  great  deal  at 
the  time  I  began  to  have  such  power  as  an  entertainer 
of  the  other  children;  and  when  she  was  with  us  for 
short  visits  she  took  no  interest  in  my  work.  Her  in- 
difference to  it  acted  like  a  rebuke  upon  me,  which  I 
certainly  felt  to  a  degree  that  shook  my  interest  in  it 
without  entirely  causing  me  to  abandon  it. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  my  fealty  to  little 
Aunt  Mary  was  also  rather  marred  for  a  time,  though 
I  really  never  outgrew  it.  I  was  drawn  in  two  op- 
posite directions  at  once,  and  the  result  was  a  stand- 
still. Her  visits  at  this  time  were  interruptions  in  the 
steady  unfoldment  of  my  own  individuality,  and  as 
they  became  more  frequent  they  marred  it  to  a  great 


A  SEARCH   FOR  FREEDOM.  43 

extent.  I  began  to  be  part  aunt  Mary  and  part  my- 
self. In  this  half-and-half  condition  I  became  more 
open  to  the  opinions  of  those  about  me. 

I  think  now,  as  I  compare  my  character  during  child- 
hood with  that  of  the  children  I  am  acquainted  with 
to-day,  that  I  was  more  independent  of  popular  opinion 
than  the  majority.  There  was  an  immense  amount  of 
"push"  about  me,  which  though  pretty  well  con- 
cealed— for  I  dared  not  make  much  display  of  it — 
indicated  a  strength  of  individualism  that  was  never — 
through  the  whole  course  of  my  after  life — totally 
crushed.  Indeed,  it  was  never  crushed  in  the  least. 
It  was  "side-tracked"  over  and  over  again  for  short 
intervals,  but  during  these  intervals  I  really  believe  it 
was  gathering  force  rather  than  losing  it. 

It  is  a  fact  that  children  who  have  this  force  of  in- 
dividualism are  always  more  indifferent  to  the  opinions 
of  others  than  children  of  weaker  will.  It  is  this  lat- 
ter class  who  are  more  easily  managed  than  any  others, 
by  working  on  their  love  of  approbation. 

My  parents  had  no  such  hold  on  me.  Praise  did 
not  stimulate  me  to  effort  nor  did  blame.    It  was  evi- 


44  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

dent  that  I  had  something  unseen  towards  which  I 
was  working,  the  attracting  power  of  which  over- 
balanced the  considerations  that  ordinarily  serve  as  a 
stimulus  to  many  children.  I  did  not  know  what  it 
was  myself  any  more  than  the  bulb  knows  of  the  lily 
folded  within  its  layers;  but  I  felt  the  developing  force, 
and  was  in  a  great  measure  obedient  to  it.  I  would 
have  my  own  way;  I  pushed  past  obstacles;  I  climbed 
over  them  or  crept  under  them;  any  direction  that  pre- 
sented the  least  resistance  in  the  attainment  of  my 
wish  was  the  direction  I  took.  I  could  not  get  my 
own  way  openly  and  by  telling  the  truth,  but  I  usually 
gained  it  "by  ways  that  are  dark  and  tricks  that  are 
vain,'1  like  Bret  Harte's  "Heathen  Chinee." 

Now  if  my  inclinations  had  been  bad  I  should  have 
given  my  parents  great  trouble;  for  I  belonged  to 
that  class  of  youngsters  called  "headstrong."  But 
my  natural  inclinations  all  ran  towards  harmony  and 
peace,  and  the  development  of  the  beautiful,  and  the 
love  and  protection  of  children  and  helpless  things; 
and  every  bit  of  lying  I  ever  did  was  prompted  by  a 
perfectly  enormous  mother  love,  and  a  sympathy  as 


A  BBABOB    I'ni!    IKKKDOM.  45 

wide  as  the  world;  a  love  and  sympathy  so  great  as  to 
make  truth  telling  entirely  subordinate  to  my  desire 
to  protect  all  creatures  from  suffering.  I  think  my 
mother  had  a  half  way  idea  of  this,  for  she  did  not 
correct  me  much  or  severely.  And  after  she  was 
dead — she  died  suddenly  when  I  was  only  a  young 
girl — a  letter  was  found  that  she  had  written  the  day 
before  to  one  of  her  sisters  in  which  she  said:  "While 
all  my  children  have  been  good  and  lovely,  and  have 
blest  me  most  abundantly,  I  think  perhaps  that  Helen, 
with  her  devotion  to  her  sisters  and  brothers  and  her 
generous  nature,  has  been  the  greatest  help  of  all." 

And  yet  Gus  was  her  favorite.  She  was  so  proud  of 
him,  and  he  was  so  handsome  and  manly  I  cannot 
wonder  at  it.  Then  I  always  believed  that  Lib  stood 
next  in  her  affections.  Lib  was  such  a  fair,  dainty 
little  thing;  so  tender  and  yielding  and  dependent,  and 
so  extraordinarily  pretty.  She  looked  like  mother, 
too,  and  it  sometimes  happens  that  this  fact  tightens 
the  link  between  mother  and  daughter. 

Not  having  much  time  to  be  sensitive,  with  so  many 
ideas  of  my  own  to  work  out,  I  gave  small  heed  to  the 


46  A   SEARCH   FOR  FREEDOM. 

thought  of  being  sandwiched  between  these  two  beauti- 
ful children.  There  never  was  a  brat  more  light- 
hearted  and  free  from  jealousy  than  I  was.  I  gloried 
in  the  charms  of  the  others  without  thinking  much 
about  myself  in  any  way.  I  must  have  been  a  good- 
looking  child,  however,  in  spite  of  being  too  fat — 
which  was  considered  a  great  drawback  to  my  appear- 
ance. I  was  so  healthy!  In  all  my  experience  I  have 
never  seen  any  one  so  impervious  to  disease.  The 
place  in  which  we  lived  was  very  sickly.  It  was  the 
Wabash  bottom  lands.  The  town  had  timber  on  one 
side  and  prairie  on  the  other,  and  the  location  w£S 
really  very  pretty  to  look  at.  But  such  another  hole 
for  every  form  of  disease  I  surely  never  heard  oi. 
This  was  many  years  ago,  and  these  conditions  are 
now  changed.  But  then  every  head  there  was  full  of 
beliefs  in  disease,  and  in  its  power  as  an  active  factor 
in  human  concerns.  It  was  God-appointed;  ar  d  when 
death  resulted  it  was  God's  judgment.  Nevertheless, 
in  spite  of  God  and  his  judgment,  the  main  business  of 
the  inhabitants  was  paying  doctors  in  the  hope  of  an- 
nulling the  effort  of  Almighty  wisdom  in  exterminat- 
ing them. 


A  SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  47 

It  not  unfrequently  happened  that  three-fourths  of 
every  family  in  town  was  bedfast  at  one  time.  In  the 
spring  it  was  spring  fever;  in  the  fall  it  was  winter 
fever;  in  the  summer  it  was  umilk  sickness";  and 
all  the  time  it  was  "fever  V  ager."  It  was  said  of 
that  town  that  the  court  house  bell  was  rung  three 
times  a  day  for  the  inhabitants  to  take  quinine.  Truly 
there  were  plenty  of  little  children  whose  abdomens 
were  so  distended  with  enlarged  spleens,  and  whose 
limbs  were  so  shrunken  that  they  looked  like  very 
young  frogs  just  emerged  from  the  tadpole  condition. 
Many  of  the  people  were  so  poor  that  the  children 
only  wore  one  garment  in  warm  weather,  and  it  so 
short  and  narrow  that  it  did  not  conceal  the  shape  of 
the  distorted  little  bodies.  It  goes  without  saying 
that  most  of  them  died  in  childhood,  and  that  funerals 
were  so  common  as  to  make  no  impression  on  my  mind 
at  all. 

All  of  our  children  had  turns  of  being  sick  except  me, 
and  it  was  a  great  trial  to  me  that  I  was  so  overlooked. 
I  longed  to  have  only  one  chill  and  fever,  if  more  were 
denied  me.     But  hope  and  pray  as  I  would  I  could  not 


48  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

get  sick.  My  skin  was  as  fair  as  the  petals  of  a  blush 
rose,  and  my  hair  hung  in  massive  waves  and  curls, 
and  had  the  healthy  luster  and  the  bright  color  of 
well  pulled  molasses  candy.  I  was  as  fat  as  a  "butter- 
ball"  duck;  and  wherever  there  was  the  proper  place 
for  a  bone  to  protrude,  as  in  knees  and  elbows  and 
knuckle  joints,  in  me  there  were  nothing  but  dimples. 
Once  I  pretended  to  be  sick,  and  mother  gave  me  a 
dose  of  calomel,  rhubarb  and  jalap,  with  occasional  tea 
cups  full  of  senna  tea  that  came  very  near  killing  me. 
The  last  dose  she  brought  was  too  much  for  my 
patience.  I  flung  myself  about  and  finally  got  out 
behind  the  bed  and  sat  on  the  floor  howling.  Mother 
could  not  reach  me,  but  she  sent  my  little  brother 
Lloyd  to  me  with  the  nauseating  dose  in  his  hands. 
The  little  fellow  begged  me  to  take  it,  and  when  I 
would  not,  he  drank  it  himself  saying  he  "spected"  it 
would  do  as  much  good,  and  mother  would  not  know 
the  difference.  My  ardent  desire  to  be  sick  was  now 
cooled;  but  I  was  very  proud  of  the  experience,  be- 
cause it  seemed  to  give  me  an  entrance  into  the  grand 
social  privilege  of  the  place;  that  of  talking  about  the 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  49 

time  when  I  had  "the  fever  and  came  mighty  nigh 
dyinV 

It  is  difficult  to  realize  the  amount  of  medicine  that 
was  taken  in  those  days.  The  neighbors  had  a  way  of 
keeping  the  empty  bottles  to  show  to  each  other;  and 
I  think  it  was  a  matter  of  rivalry  among  them  to  see 
which  one  had  the  greatest  number.  I  have  an  idea 
that  there  was  some  claim  to  moral  or  intellectual 
superiority  attached  to  the  matter.  I  am  sure  that 
when  this  subject  was  under  discussion,  and  this  was 
as  often  as  a  group  of  them  chanced  to  meet,  I  felt 
disreputably  small  and  out  of  fashion  because  I  had 
no  claims  to  distinction  based  on  the  number  of 
medicine  bottles  I  had  emptied. 

I  cannot  say,  however,  that  it  rankled  if  my  mind, 
nor  do  I  hold  it  responsible  for  a  little  episode  I  am 
about  to  relate.  Mother  believed  in  medicine,  not 
only  as  a  curative  for  present  ills,  but  as  a  preventive 
for  expected  ones.  So  when  the  weather  seemed  to  be 
warm,  or  cool,  or  medium,  or  very  cold,  or  when  indi- 
cations prophesied  any  of  these  conditions,  she  thought 
it  best  for  us  to  take  a  dose  of  quinine  every  morning. 


50  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

before  breakfast;  and  I  being  the  proper  person  was 
always  appointed  to  administer  it.  The  quinine  was 
in  liquid  form  and  was  given  with  a  teaspoon.  The 
children  hated  it,  and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  get  them 
to  take  it.  But  I  believed  in  its  efficacy  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  I  thought  their  lives  depended  on  it.  Of 
course  this  lent  such  power  to  my  efforts  that  not  one 
of  them  ever  escaped. 

It  was  mother's  understanding  that  I  was  to  take  it 
too;  and  the  one  grain  of  consolation  to  the  poor  little 
ones  was  that  my  turn  would  come.  So  when  they 
were  through  I  would  pour  my  own  tea-spoonfull 
and  raise  it  to  my  lips,  and  turn  and  run  to  the  corner 
of  the  porch  where  the  honeysuckle  vine  was  so  thicki 
and  where  I  could  dispose  of  it  without  detection. 
Then  coming  back  I  would  meet  them  with  a  face  as 
expressive  of  a  bad  taste  as  their  own.  There  were 
other  ways  of  eluding  their  vigilance  when  this  one 
wore  out;  but  my  character  suffered  a  good  deal  from 
the  doubts  that  were  reflected  on  my  veracity,  and  I 
had  to  do  something  desperate  to  switch  public  opinion 
off  the  track.     So  one  morning  I  took  the  bottle,  a 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  51 

large  one,  and  quite  full,  and  gave  the  children  to 
understand  that  I  would  satisfy  them;  and  I  drank  the 
contents  down,  every  drop  of  it,  in  full  view  of  the 
entire  group. 

They  were  breathless  for  a  moment  and  then  ran, 
panic  stricken,  to  mother.  Poor  mother  was  awfully 
frightened  and  sent  for  our  family  physician.  He  was  a 
doctor  of  home-made  manufacture,  and  had  never  seen 
the  inside  of  a  college  in  his  life;  but  he  was  really 
one  of  the  most  successful  practitioners  I  ever  saw; 
and  this  was  because  he  was  so  vital,  so  high  spirited 
and  so  jolly.  His  laugh  could  be  heard  half  a  mile 
away,  and  it  was  more  efficacious  than  his  medicine. 

When  the  doctor  came  I  was  on  the  lounge,  and  he 
approached  me  rapidly  and  with  the  gravest  face  I  had 
ever  seen  him  wear.  His  expression  was  such  that  for 
a  moment  I  was  psychologized  into  forgetting  that  I 
had  cautiously  emptied  the  quinine  out  of  the  bottle 
an  hour  before  and  filled  it  up  with  water.  I  began 
to  think  maybe  I  would  die,  and  a  cold  sweat  started 
on  me  as  he  felt  my  pulse  and  examined  my  tongue 
and  placed  his  hand  on  my  heart,  etc. 

For   two  long  hours  they  watched  for   symptoms. 


52  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

Breakfast  came  and  was  eaten,  and  I  not  there.  Mercy  i 
how  hungry  I  was!  I  had  not  calculated  on  so  serious 
a  deprivation. 

The  doctor  grew  suspicious  and  attempted  to  cross- 
question  me,  but  I  declined  to  commit  myself.  At 
last  he  prepared  to  leave.  "Is  there  any  particular 
diet  I  shall  give  her?"  asked  mother. 

"Oh !  yes,  Lib,"  said  he  as  he  stood  with  the  door  knob 
in  his  hand,  "be  very  careful  of  her  diet;  don't,  give 
her  anything  more  indigestible  than  india  rubber  flap 
jacks  and  hard  boiled  goose  eggs." 

Years  after  this,  seated  in  a  handsome  carriage 
behind  a  spanking  Kentucky  team  with  this  same 
doctor,  then  a  widower  for  the  second  time,  but  still  a 
strikingly  handsome  man,  though  verging  toward 
sixty,  he  made  me  an  offer  of  marriage  which  I  de- 
clined. Afterwards,  to  fill  an  embarrassing  interval 
that  ensued,  I  told  him  how  I  had  deceived  evenbody 
about  the  quinine. 

"Smartest  young  un  'at  ever  lived,  b'gosh,"  said 
the  doctor  cheerfully;  "roped  me  in  then,  and  have 
roped  me  in  again  when  I  am  old  enough  to  know 
better.     B'gosh!  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  you." 


CHAPTER  III. 


A   LOVE   LETTER. 

The  previous  chapter  is  far  from  giving  an  adequate 
idea  of  my  experience  with  sickness.  Owing  to  the 
natural  motherhood  of  me,  I  became  a  splendid  nurse 
even  when  quite  young. 

I  had  to  take  my  turn  sitting  up  of  nights  with  our 
own  sick  children,  and  as  it  often  happened  in  the 
morning  after  one  of  my  nights  that  the  little  patient 
was  better,  it  came  to  be  believed  that  I  had  some 
special  and  heaven-endowed  gift  of  healing. 

In  those  days  the  practice  of  medicine  was  very 
rigid.  No  matter  how  high  the  patient's  fever  ran, 
all  water  was  forbidden.  Certain  diet  was  prescribed 
with  the  death  penalty  attached  to  a  deviation  from 
it.  No  fruit  was  allowed;  no  acids  of  any  kind; 
and  the  most  powerful  medicines  were  given  at  fixed 
intervals.  I  recall  the  very  first  night  from  which 
my  reputation  as  a  nurse  took  its  rise.  My  little 
sister  Emma,  just  nine  years  younger  than  I,  was 
subject  to  bilious  attacks  in  which  she   was   almost 

S3 


54  A    SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

consumed  with  fever.  She  was  the  sweetest  child, 
and  the  most  angelically  beautiful  one,  in  the  world, 
I  thought.  She  was  the  special  pet  of  the  entire 
family  and  of  the  whole  town.  She  was  called  the 
flower  of  mother's  flock  on  account  of  the  loveliness 
of  her  disposition,  never  manifesting  a  particle  of  ill- 
temper  on  any  occasion;  always  obliging,  happy- 
hearted  and  generous.  This  darling  sister  is  still 
living — a  very  beautiful  woman  yet — beloved  by  all 
who  know  her. 

On  the  night  referred  to,  mother  had  no  sooner 
gone  to  bed  leaving  me  alone  with  the  little  sick 
creature,  then  only  three  years  old,  than  she  began  to 
beg  for  water.  Her  large,  pleading,  innocent  eyes 
would  not  release  mine  for  an  instant,  and  her  coax- 
ing little  voice  tore  my  heart  in  pieces.  uOh!  Henny^ 
watty,  watty,  please;  please,  dear  Henny." 

I  begged  and  plead  with  her.  My  tears  answered 
her  moans,  for  her  parched  eyeballs  were  moistureless. 
When  I  could  hold  out  no  longer  I  gave  her  just  one 
swallow,  and  watched  its  effects.  She  kept  begging 
for  more,  and  I  gave  it.  Before  an  hour  I  took  a 
tumbler  out  on  the  back  porch  where  the  well  stood, 
and  brought  her  a  whole  glass,  cool  and  dripping. 
Oh !  how  she  drank  it.     Then  I  gave  her  another  and 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  55 

another.  I  knew  symptoms  well  enough  to  see  that 
she  was  getting  no  worse;  and  presently  her  pulse 
went  down,  and  she  slept  while  the  perspiration  came 
out  on  her  forehead.  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever 
passed  a  night  in  such  terror;  but  her  sleep  was  so 
healthful  and  her  skin  so  natural,  that  I  became  re- 
assured and  began  to  do  some  thinking  for  myself; 
especially  as  she  woke  up  hungry  as  a  hunter  just 
before  day,  and  begged  for  some  bread  and  butter  and 
jam.  These  were  forbidden  things  too;  but  one  act 
of  boldness  prepares  the  faltering  soul  for  another 
and  I  gave  her  what  she  wanted,  carefully  clearing 
away  all  signs  of  my  disobedience  and  making  her 
promise  never  to  tell.  When  mother  came  in  Emma 
was  asleep  again,  and  before  the  new  day  passed  she 
was  virtually  well. 

Cause  and  effect  are  largely  developed  in  my  head. 
I  learned  my  lesson  from  this  night's  experience,  and 
every  patient  that  I  attended  reaped  the  benefit  of  it. 
And  this  is  why  I  got  the  reputation  of  being  a 
heaven-ordained  healer.  This,  and  another  thing 
equally  as  important,  that  of  throwing  the  medicine 
away.  The  children  hated  to  take  it,  and  after  a  few 
cautious  experiments  in  throwing  part  of  it  away  I 
got  to  throwing  it  all  away. 


56  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

I  expect  the  reader  will  wonder  that  a  naturally 
bold,  frank  child  should  do  all  this  in  an  underhanded 
manner.  I  find  in  looking  back  at  myself  that  in 
spite  of  my  boldness  and  frankness  I  was  secretive. 
I  cannot  tell  what  argument  passed  through  my  im- 
mature brain,  but  I  suppose  I  knew  that  the  opposition 
was  too  strong  for  me,  and  that  I  could  only  have  my 
own  way  by  taking  it  on  the  sly;  and  it  is  my 
opinion  now  that  it  took  a  very  daring  child  to  do  as 
I  did,  even  though  I  did  it  with  such  extreme  caution. 

And  no  doubt  I  had  some  system  of  reasoning  that 
justified  me  to  myself.  I  think  all  children  have. 
And  because  this  is  so,  I  beg  every  mother  in  the 
world  to  use  patience  and  argument  with  her  little 
ones,  and  abstain  forever  from  the  brutality  of  a  blow. 
If  parents  will  conquer  themselves  they  will  find  that 
they  will  not  need  to  conquer  their  children.  The 
silent  and  peaceful  breath  of  self-conquest  com- 
municates itself  without  even  a  spoken  word,  and 
harmonizes  every  discordant  element  in  the  family. 

Now,  will  it  be  believed,  that  somehow  or  other 
this  knowledge  was  in  me  when  I  was  a  child,  and  all 
my  secrecy  and  deceptions  were  in  the  line  of  its  un- 
foldment  under  such  difficulties  as  I  necessarily  met 
in  the  organized  opinions  of  that  time? 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  57 

It  was  too  big  an  undertaking — in  the  face  of  so 
much  opposition — to  explain  myself;  and  probably  I 
was  quite  unable  to  do  it,  even  if  I  had  wished  to;  so 
I  simply  pushed  forward  in  the  accomplishment  of 
what  seemed  most  desirable,  working  silently  in  lines 
that  presented  the  fewest  obstacles. 

I  find  this  same  disposition  with  me  still.  I  never 
argue  with  anyone.  People  may  argue  with  me,  but 
they  will  have  it  all  to  themselves.  They  may  think 
they  have  convinced  me,  and  yet  they  have  not 
swerved  me  by  the  tenth  part  of  the  frailest  idea.  It 
is  the  same  way  about  giving  advice.  I  never  do  it; 
and  it  is  useless  for  any  one  to  offer  it  to  me.  There 
is  some  unseen  goal  to  which  every  attribute  of  my 
whole  nature  is  true  as  the  needle  to  the  pole;  and  it 
always  was.  That  this  leading  is  in  the  line  of  my 
individual  development,  I  do  not  doubt.  To  me  it 
means  life  itself,  and  the  abandonment  of  it  would  be 
the  abandonment  of  life. 

The  chief  difference  I  find  between  myself  as  I  then 
was,  and  myself  as  I  now  am,  lies  in  the  fact  that 
while  I  was  formerly  secretive  and  obtained  my  own 
way  by  deception,  if  I  could  not  have  it  otherwise, 
that  now  I  am  bold  enough  to  scorn  deception,  and  I 
value   the   trend   of   my   individual   unfoldment   too 


58  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

highly  to  care  a  straw  for  the  opinions  of  other  people 
regarding  it.  I  take  my  own  course  openly,  and 
pursue  it  earnestly.  If  friends  approve  I  am  glad;  if 
they  oppose  I  bear  their  opposition  stoically;  but  in 
any  case  1  keep  straight  on;  nothing  swerves  me. 

And  what  does  this  mean?  I  believe  it  means 
simply  fidelity  to  my  own  individual  self -hood;  fidelity 
to  that  consciousness  which  distinguishes  me  from 
the  consciousness  of  another:  fidelity  to  my  own  sense 
of  what  is  best,  in  distinction  from  the  sense  of 
another  as  to  what  is  best. 

We  sometimes  speak  of  a  child  as  a  natural-born 
liar.  There  are  no  natural-born  liars.  Take  off  the 
pressure  that  would  warp  a  child  out  of  the  line  of  its 
own  individual  and  original  development,  and  that 
child  immediately  becomes  truthful.  It  is  an  igno- 
rant system  of  bringing  children  up  that  makes  them 
lie.  It  is  a  condition  of  irresolution  fostered  in  them 
by  making  them  afraid  to  have  their  own  way,  even 
when  every  current  of  their  being  is  set  upon  doing 
so.  In  such  a  case  the  child  is  open  to  choose  either 
his  own  suppression  or  a  suppression  of  the  truth.  If 
he  is  a  weak  child  he  consents  to  be  suppressed,  and 
becomes  what  his  parents  call  a  truthful  child,  but 
with  a  broken  will.      If  he  is  a  strong,  vital,  head- 


A   8EARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  59 

strong  child,  he  will  have  his  own  way  and  lie  about 
it.  But  when  these  children  are  grown  up,  it  is  the 
latter  type  that  make  the  world  movers,  and  the 
former  type  that  make  the  hangers  on. 

And  again  I  object  to  the  term  truthful  as  applied 
to  the  first  class,  and  to  the  word  liar  as  applied  to 
the  second  class.  For  I  say  that  fidelity  to  one's  self, 
to  one's  most  earnest  desires,  is  a  truthfulness  that 
stands  far  above  that  trained  infidelity  to  self,  which 
involves  the  surrender  of  the  will  for  the  sake  of  be- 
ing considered  a  good  boy  or  girl. 

So  far  as  my  deceptions  were  concerned,  I  was 
perfectly  free  from  self-accusation  during  my  child- 
hood. I  was  conscious  of  something  that  justified 
me.  Farther  on  I  got  a  definition  of  the  situation 
that  satisfied  me  up  to  the  time  my  reason  became 
submerged  by  the  fear  which  the  plan  of  salvation 
engendered  in  my  mind.  After  that  I  had  no  ideas  of 
my  own  about  anything  for  years. 

But  my  definition  of  a  lie  was  this.  If  a  thing  was 
said  with  an  intent  to  harm  another  person,  that  thing 
was  a  lie,  no  matter  how  true  it  was;  but  if  it  was 
said  in  the  interest  of  peace  and  harmony  and  happi- 
ness, it  was  true  even  though  every  word  was  false. 
I  was  very  far  from  telling  this  to  mother,  or,  indeed, 


60  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

as  a  rule  to  any  one,  but  once  when  my  father  and  I 
became  confidential  I  told  him,  and  he  said  I  was  the 
most  truthful  little  girl  he  ever  saw.  I  would  have 
trusted  my  father  with  all  my  thoughts  but  for  a 
certain  expression  in  his  laughing  eyes  that  made  me 
think  he  was  making  fun  of  me.  As  it  was  I  lived 
two  lives.  One,  the  unseen  one,  was  purely  ideal,  and 
everything  was  beautiful  there.  The  other  was  my 
external,  every-day  life  that  I  tried  to  conform  to  the 
ideal  one.  Actually  I  carried  a  heaven  about  with  me 
into  which  all  my  friends  were  admitted  without  their 
knowing  it;  and  while  there  they  were  all  perfect. 
Not  one  of  them  had  any  deficiency  of  person  or 
character,  and  they  were  all  rich  and  dressed  in  silk 
and  satin  and  lace  every  day.  Not  a  soul  of  my 
acquaintance  was  excluded  except  for  a  little  while  at 
a  time;  as,  for  instance,  some  child  that  had  slapped 
one  of  our  children,  or  otherwise  offended  my  sense  of 
right. 

Among  these  friends  who  lived  in  this  secret  heaven 
were  people  who  were  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
entirely  unfit  for  any  heaven  whatever.  They  were 
the  riffraff  of  one  of  the  most  ignorant  communities 
in  the  United  States.  But  I  brought  them  in  and 
dressed  them  up  and  made  them  good  and  happy. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  61 

There  were  three  little  girls  whose  mother  was  very 
poor,  and  a  dreadful  woman  besides.  These  little 
things  would  come  trailing  into  school  of  a  morning, 
the  eldest  in  front  and  the  others  following  Indian 
file.  The  town  boys  called  them  Rag,  Tag  and  Bob- 
tail, and  treated  them  badly.  I  made  no  effort  to 
defend  them;  I  reproved  no  child  for  his  cruelty;  I 
simply  could  not  do  it  at  that  tender  age;  but  when 
alone  I  took  these  little  girls  into  my  Paradise  and 
made  princesses  of  them,  and  gave  them  higher  places 
of  honor  than  any  of  their  persecutors. 

I  had  quite  a  struggle  with  myself  to  admit  boys 
at  all,  except  my  brothers.  I  did  not  like  boys.  The 
expression  I  most  frequently  used  in  describing  them 
was  that  "they  had  no  sense.11 

How  they  could  find  their  chief  pleasure  in  tortur- 
ing things  I  could  not  understand,  and  in  fighting 
each  other.  It  was  such  a  mystery  to  me  that  I 
actually  thought  them  deficient  in  mental  capacity. 
I  was  afraid  of  them,  and  would  go  a  good  way  out  of 
my  road  rather  than  meet  one  if  I  was  alone.  But 
we  had  a  girl  in  school  who  was  not  afraid,  and  did  I 
not  glory  in  her  pluck? 

The  school  was  taught  in  an  upper  room  in  the 
court   house.      In  dismissing  it,  the  teacher    always 


62  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

sent  the  boys  out  first.  When  they  reached  the  outer 
door — instead  of  leaving,  as  was  expected  of  them — 
they  often  stopped  and  formed  two  lines  through 
which  the  girls  had  to  pass.  As  we  passed  out,  they 
would  jeer  and  taunt  those  among  us  against  whom 
they  had  a  grudge.  The  girl  to  whom  I  have  just 
alluded  was  certainly  a  peculiar  specimen  of  humanity. 
She  had  the  features  and  carriage  of  a  Greek  goddess; 
but  her  beauty  was  marred  by  a  perpetual  frown.  The 
whole  world  went  wrong  with  her,  and  her  position 
towards  it  was  bitterly  antagonistic.  Such  a  fighter 
as  she  was!  Her  father,  who  died  early,  was  an  Irish- 
man, and  a  truly  grand  character.  Her  mother  was 
the  softest,  most  baby-like,  pretty  little  bit  of  a 
woman  I  ever  saw,  but  slightly  deaf.  She  was 
married  again  to  a  man  younger  than  herself;  and  all 
the  horrors  relating  to  the  cruelty  of  step-fathers  were 
far  outdone  by  the  cruelty  practiced  on  him  by  his 
step-children,  of  whom  there  were  three,  Kate  being 
the  eldest  and  the  leader.  It  seems  surprising  to  me 
now  to  recall  her  boldness  and  courage.  We  more 
timid  girls  would  pass  down  between  the  two  lines  of 
boys,  and  take  a  safe  position  where  we  would  wait 
for  Kate.  I  can  see  her  now  as  she  suddenly  appeared 
in  the  door  on   such  occasions,   her  form  erect  and 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  63 

divinely  muscular;  her  features  so  perfect  that  her 
freckles  hardly  had  power  to  mar  her  beauty;  her  blue 
eyes  covert,  almost  downcast,  but  emitting  baleful 
gleams  from  under  the  drooping  lids;  bareheaded,  too, 
with  her  slat  sunbonnet  clubbed  in  her  stout  right 
hand.  In  those  days  our  sunbonnets  were  filled  with 
hickory  splints,  and  could  be  converted  into  quite 
formidable  weapons.  And  there  I  seem  to  see  her 
standing,  without  a  word,  as  the  boys  dare  her  to 
come  on,  distorting  their  faces  with  diabolical  grimaces 
and  writhing  their  bodies  into  such  shapes  as  appear 
most  threatening  and  dangerous.  Kate  waits  her 
opportunity,  knowing  that  such  unusual  movements 
as  they  are  making  in  their  effort  to  terrorize  her,  will 
exhaust  their  muscles.  Finally  when  she  is  ready  she 
springs  from  the  door  step  upon  them  with  the  agility 
of  a  tiger,  and  knocks  two  or  three  down  just  by  the 
sheer  force  of  her  flying  form;  clips  a  half  dozen 
more  on  the  head  with  her  clubbed  bonnet;  digs  her 
claws  into  another,  kicks  three  or  four  more,  butts 
another  with  her  head  and  makes  his  nose  bleed;  and 
keeps  this  up  until  she  puts  them  all  to  rout,  or  at 
least  banishes  them  so  far  that  they  content  them- 
selves with  throwing  stones  at  her  in  the  intervals  of 
nursing  their  bruises.      But  she  herself  is  an  adept  at 


64  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

throwing  stones,  having  served  an  apprenticeship  on 
her  step-father,  and  they  have  no  advantage  of  her  in 
this  matter. 

I  loved  this  girl,  and  we  grew  up  close  friends.  She 
was  intellectual  and  developed  a  taste  for  reading. 
She  made  a  splendid  woman  and  a  social  leader.  She 
married  and  was  the  mother  of  extraordinarily  fine 
children.  After  thirty  years  absence  from  the  town  I 
went  back  there  to  find  her  insane.  Her  strength, 
her  force,  the  very  majesty  of  her  intellect,  having 
found  no  outlet  suitable  to  their  grand  character,  had 
turned  to  rend  her.     A  few  years  later  she  died. 

Next  to  me,  in  respect  to  age,  was  my  sister  Lib, 
named  after  mother;  then  there  were  two  boys,  Lloyd 
and  Ivens.  These  two  little  villains  gave  me  more 
trouble  than  all  the  rest  of  the  children.  Wherever 
one  went  the  other  went,  and  what  mischief  one  could 
not  suggest,  the  other  could.  They  stuck  together 
like  a  pair  of  pickpockets,  and  never  were  known  to 
turn  stated  evidence  against  each  other,  no  matter 
what  the  provocation.  I  was  eternally  carrying  these 
youngsters  out  of  danger;  and  as  they  were  large, 
heavy  children,  the  best  I  could  do  was  to  take  them 
around  the  body  below  their  arms  and  drag  them 
away.     In  doing  this  they  had  the  free  use  of  their 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  65 

feet;  and  I  am  not  exaggerating  when  I  say  that 
there  were  years  that  I  was  never  once  free  from 
bruises  from  my  knees  to  my  ankbs,  inflicted  by  them. 
Now,  while  I  really  loved  them,  they  never  seemed  to 
me  like  Gus.  Gus  was  the  man  of  the  house;  but 
these  little  unkempt  cubs  were  a  pair  of  troglodytes 
that  by  careful  preservation  from  death,  might  develop 
into  second  editions  of  my  beautiful  elder  brother. 
This  was  the  way  I  felt  towards  them,  and  my  care  of 
them  was  unflagging;  and  I  do  really  suppose  that  a 
great  part  of  it  was  unnecessary. 

The  fence  that  bounded  the  back  part  of  our  garden 
was  made  of  boards,  with  one  flat  board  on  the  top 
that — on  Saturdays — served  as  a  seat  for  us  children. 
Just  across  the  street  was  a  saloon  where  intoxicating 
drinks  were  served,  and  where  on  this  particular  day 
of  the  week,  half  the  men  in  the  county  were  collected 
to  talk,  drink  and  have  a  social  time.  All  along  this 
street  were  hitching  posts  erected,  and  many  horses 
were  tied  to  them.  Indeed,  the  town  was  full  of 
horses  and  men  on  this  day.  It  seemed  as  if  every- 
body— by  common  consent — dropped  work  and  came 
to  town  on  Saturday.  It  was  like  a  circus  to  us;  and 
we  were  in  the  habit  of  sitting  on  the  fence  patiently 
from  morning  until  evening — unless  the  men  got  to 


66  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

shooting  each  other — and  entering  into  the  excitement 
of  the  occasion.  What  drunken  brawls  we  witnessed, 
and  what  horse  racing  and  big  talk  and  threats,  all 
of  it  usually  winding  up  in  a  half  dozen  harmless 
fights!  It  was  only  very  rarely  that  any  one  had  a 
pistol  to  use. 

Now,  will  some  one  tell  me  how  it  was  that  with 
my  naturally  peaceful  disposition  I  entered  into  the 
riotous  enjoyment  of  these  wild  scenes?  For  I  surely 
did  enjoy  them.  Then,  too,  I  had  no  trouble  with  the 
children  on  these  days.  They  sat  there  with  me  in 
perfect  content;  even  the  baby  would  be  quiet  and 
happy  as  it  watched  the  busy  panorama  and  listened 
to  the  neighing,  screaming  horses.  It  must  have  been 
the  life  in  it  that  was  so  attractive.  It  was  in  such 
vivid  contrast  with  the  other  days  of  the  week,  whose 
monotonous,  droning  events  were  only  one  remove 
from  death. 

At  least  I  would  think  so  now  if  I  had  to  live  that 
life  over  again,  having  known  something  better;  but 
then  I  did  not  really  feel  its  dullness.  I  was  too 
superbly  alive  myself  not  to  see  life  in  everything. 
Fat  and  lazy  as  I  was,  and  nearly  always  loaded  down 
with  the  weight  of  a  baby,  yet  I  was  the  most  in- 
terested spectator  of  the  doings  of  the  ants  and  bees 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  67 

and  other  small  folk  of  the  fields,  which  I  would 
follow  with  great  interest  to  their  homes  and  do  what 
I  could  to  discover  their  habits  without  hurting  them. 
And  I  was  interested  in  the  people  about  me.  I  knew 
when  Mary  Ellen  Watkins,  aunt  Emma's  hired  girl, 
would  have  money  enough  saved  up  to  buy  a  pink 
calico  dress  and  a  pair  of  prunello  slippers;  I  kept 
accounts  for  her.  The  wages  of  a  hired  girl  in  those 
days,  and  in  that  place,  were  fifty  cents  a  week.  Other 
things  were  proportionally  cheap.  Think  of  hens 
that  had  no  more  spirit  than  to  supply  the  market 
with  eggs  at  three  cents  a  dozen;  but  they  actually 
did  it.  The  "new  hen"  in  this  Bloomer  stage  of 
female  development  values  her  services  more  highly. 

Those  were  primitive  times.  I  cannot  recall  the 
unseen  working  of  the  system  of  industry  that  pre- 
vailed, but  I  know  that  the  women  spun  and  wove 
flax  and  wool,  and  made  the  material  they  and  their 
families  used  for  clothing.  Where  they  got  the  flax 
I  do  not  know.  I  know  where  they  got  wool,  because 
every  family  kept  a  few  sheep.  Every  neighborhood 
had  its  own  shoemaker  who  got  enough  work  to  do  to 
support  him.  The  shoes  he  made  were  simply  dread- 
ful to  behold.  But  ugly  as  they  were,  the  best  of 
care  was  taken  by  his  customers  to  make  them  last  as 


DO  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

long  as  possible.  I  have  met  many  a  crowd  of  people, 
young  and  old,  coming  home  from  church  carrying 
their  shoes  in  their  hands  to  save  the  wear  of  walking 
in  them. 

My  condition  in  life  differed  quite  materially  from 
that  of  many  of  the  people  about  me.  My  father 
"kept  store."  We  did  not  wear  homespun  clothes  nor 
home-made  shoes.  We  were  called  "quality  folks,"  to 
indicate  this  fact,  and  were  greatly  looked  to  by  many 
of  our  neighbors,  and  especially  by  the  country  people. 

Mother  was  decidedly  a  society  leader.  To  our 
Fairfield  swelldom  she  was  what  the  Four  Hundred 
are  to  New  York;  or  what  the  immortal  Worth  was 
to  Paris,  and  indeed  to  all  the  world.  Mother  found 
out  some  how  or  other  that  little  girls  wore  drawers, 
and  made  some  for  me.  I  remember  her  trying  the 
first  pair  on  me.  She  had  me  stripped  and  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  room.  It  must  have  been  cold 
weather  for  there  was  a  fire.  I  also  recall  the  fact 
that  aunt  Clem  and  aunt  Emma  were  present.  Aunt 
Emma  had  too  much  sympath}7  with  children  to 
laugh,  but  aunt  Clem  roared,  and  mother  could  not 
keep  her  face  straight,  though  she  tried. 

"Sister,"  said  aunt  Clem,  "she  is  the  living  image  of 
old  Johnny  Young."     And  then  they  fairly  whooped. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  09 

Johnny  Young  came  to  town  every  Saturday  dur- 
ing warm  weather,  dressed  in  tow  linen  trousers  and 
shirt,  with  knit  "galluses."  He  weighed  four  hundred 
pounds,  and  was  a  sight  to  behold.  One  of  aunt 
Clem's  little  girls  was  caught  stalking  him  in  the 
street  one  day,  tiptoing  after  him  like  a  hunter 
after  his  game.  In  describing  him  she  said,  "He  was 
awfy  behind,  but  he  was  awfy  before." 

To  be  compared  with  old  Johnny  was  an  insult  I 
could  not  stand.  I  became  sulky  and  would  not  move 
except  as  I  was  pushed  around.  When  they  were 
done,  and  had  taken  the  drawers  off,  T  picked  them  up 
and  ran  and  threw  them  in  the  fire.  What  followed  I 
do  not  remember.  As  I  was  in  good  spanking  costume 
I  probably  got  spanked;  but  if  so,  a  spanking  was 
such  a  slight  insult  in  comparison  with  being  said  to 
resemble  Johnny  Young,  I  have  forgotten  it. 

The  drawers,  however,  became  an  established  in- 
stitution, and  my  dresses,  which  had  formerly  been 
down  to  my  shoe  tops  were  shortened  almost  to  my 
knees.  The  drawers  came  clear  to  my  feet;  and  my 
appearance  may  be  imagined.  One  day  as  I  was  pass- 
ing the  store,  a  man  from  the  country,  a  regular  "Blue 
Jeans" — that  was  what  we  town  people  called  them — 
spoke  to  me.     He  said,  "I  don't  know  whether  to  call 


70  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

you  Sis  or  Bub;  but  I  want  to  say  that  my  boys  wear 
breeches,  but  my  gals  don't." 

I  said  nothing.  I  was  too  timid,  too  startled;  but  I 
held  that  man  in  profound  contempt  for  years,  and 
rarely  a  day  passed  that  I  did  not — in  imagination — 
make  some  elaborately  cutting  reply  to  his  remark. 
I  was  then,  and  am  still,  troubled  with  "after  wit." 

But,  my  mother  being  a  great  social  leader,  it  was 
not  long  until  all  the  respectable  families  in  town  had 
drawers  on  their  little  girls;  or,  if  not  drawers,  then 
an  imitation  of  them  in  the  form  of  ."pantalets." 
These  peculiar  garments  were  bags  in  which  the  lower 
part  of  the  leg  was  incased.  They  were  tied  below 
the  knee  with  the  same  string  that  held  the  stocking 
up.  One  disrespectful  boy  in  town  called  them  "shin 
curtains,"  and  remarked  sneeringly  that  if  people 
were  as  modest  as  they  ought  to  be,  they  would  put 
them  on  the  bedstead  legs  too — for  all  of  which  his 
ears  must  have  burned  fearfully,  if  there  is  anything 
in  signs,  for  we  little  girls  did  cat-haul  him  un- 
mercifully behind  his  back;  and  finally,  as  the  most 
withering  piece  of  sarcasm,  and  the  most  irredeemable 
reproach,  we  changed  his  name  from  Fay  Turney 
to  "Fraternity."  This,  to  our  infantile  intelligences 
seemed   such    a   stroke  of  sarcasm  that,  out  of  pure 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  71 

self-gratulation,  we  forgave  him.  Later,  but  while 
still  children,  I  was  the  recipient  of  Fay's  youthful 
affections,  and  got  a  love  letter  from  him.  He  gave 
one  of  my  little  brothers  a  goose  egg  to  bring  it 
to  me.  Goose  eggs  were  legal  tender  there,  and  the 
Goose  folk  in  the  neighborhood  of  town  must  have 
had  a  difficult  time  to  increase  their  families  owing  to 
the  depredations  of  the  boys. 

I  did  not  like  Fay's  letter  because  it  alluded  to 
points  concerning  which  I  had  a  right  to  be  sensitive, 
having  already  heard  too  much  about  them.  He  said 
that  "some  folks  didn't  like  fat  girls,  but  he  did;  and 
some  folks  didn't  like  red  hair,  but  he  did;  Hall 
Wilson  said  I  looked  like  I  was  cut  out  of  a  solid 
piece  of  salt  junk,  and  he  meant  to  taste  of  me  some 
time  and  find  out;  but  he,  Fay,  had  lain  in  wait  at  a 
certain  fence  corner  and  flung  a  stick  at  Hall  that 
mighty  nigh  split  his  fool  noodle  plum  open."  This 
and  more  like  it  went  to  make  up  Fay's  letter,  which 
I  would  not  have  considered  a  love  letter  but  for  his 
emphatic  assertion  of  the  fact,  and  by  his  winding  up 
with  some  poetry  that  everybody  in  town  would  have 
sworn  was  indelible  proof: 

"The  rose  is  red,  the  violet's  blue, 
Sugar's  sweet,  and  so  are  you." 


72  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

The  next  time  I  met  Fay  on  the  street,  I  picked  up 
a  pebble  and  held  it  tight  in  my  hand  until  I  had 
passed  him  without  looking  at  him.  When  a  safe 
distance  behind  him,  I  threw  it  at  him  wickedly,  and 
ran  as  fast  as  I  could. 

Fay  passed  from  the  world  of  sense  years  and  years 
ago;  and  Hall  Wilson,  who  was  going  to  find  out  by 
a  practical  test  whether  I  was  cut  out  of  salt  junk  or 
not,  got  to  be  private  secretary  to  President  Lincoln. 
It  was  not  long  after  Lincoln's  death  before  Hall — 
still  young,  handsome  and  talented — joined  the  silent 
majority.  What  a  strange  feeling  of  stillness  conies 
over  me  when  I  think  of  all  these  old  companions  so 
long  gone. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE   GOODEST   LITTLE   BOY    THAT   EVER   LIVED. 

My  two  little  brothers  often  talked  of  going  to  see 
the  world.  I  discovered  that  the  world  they  intended 
to  visit  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  dimly  outlined 
timber,  just  beyond  the  prairie,  which  bounded  the 
town  on  the  north.  Several  times  I  caught  them 
stealing  off  in  that  direction,  and  dragged  them  back 
by  main  force.  But  once  they  got  so  far  ahead  of  me 
I  could  not  catch  them.  So  I  followed  them,  begging 
them  to  return,  alternately  scolding  and  crying.  I 
can  still  see  Lloyd  trudging  ahead  sturdily,  and  that 
fat  pudge  of  small  imp,  Ivens,  trotting  after  him.  It 
was  evening  and  would  soon  be  dark.  My  distress 
was  simply  indescribable.  I  was  afraid  of  the  tall 
grass  in  the  prairie,  which  was  higher  than  our  heads, 
and  the  cow  path  we  were  in  was  dim  and  undefined. 
Night  closed  around  us.  We  could  barely  distinguish 
the  path;  and  yet  that  infant  demon  in  the  lead 
walked  on  as  if  made  of  the  finest  steel  springs. 
After   a  long  time  Ivens  began  to  lag;  then  I  took 

"73 


74  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

him  by  the  hand  and  still  followed.  Presently  he 
began  to  bawl,  and  I  tried  to  carry  him.  In  this  way 
I  fell  quite  a  distance  behind  Lloyd,  who  never  once 
turned  his  head  to  see  whether  I  was  there  or  not, 
but  marched  straight  on  with  unabated  zeal.  I 
hurried  all  I  could  to  catch  up  with  him,  and  the  last 
I  saw  of  him  he  was  crossing  a  ravine  on  a  rail  or 
slender  log  placed  there  as  a  sort  of  primitive  bridge 
for  foot  passengers.  I  cried  out  to  him  to  stop.  I 
was  exhausted  and  almost  breathless.  It  never  was 
in  me  to  walk  a  log  like  that,  or  even  to  "coon  it." 
It  was  all  I  could  do  to  navigate  my  tub  of  a  craft  on 
solid  ground.  As  the  boy  went  steadily  over  that 
frail  crossing  and  disappeared  in  the  total  darkness  on 
the  other  side,  it  was  as  if  my  life  went  with  him.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  in  spite  of  my  being  a  head- 
strong child,  I  had  been  frightened  so  much  I  was 
timid;  so  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  pictures  I  drew 
of  snakes  and  lizards  and  wild  cats  were  enough  to 
keep  me  wide  awake  and  in  agony  for  hours,  as  I  sat 
there  in  the  dew-damp  grass  with  Ivens  in  my  lap, 
wrapped  up  in  the  short  skirt  of  my  dress  to  protect 
him  from  the  chill  of  the  night.  He  had  been  hungry, 
and  had  cried  himself  to  sleep.  Hours  passed  that 
seemed  like  ages  to  me.     At  last  I  heard  the  report  of 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  75 

a  gun,  and  then  another  and  another.  I  knew  what 
that  meant,  and  rolled  the  fat  lump  of  a  boy  out  of 
my  arms  and  stood  up,  hut  so  stiff  I  could  scarcely 
move.  I  heard  a  horse  coming,  and  voices  calling; 
and  then  every  bit  of  vocal  capacity  in  me  limbered 
to  the  occasion,  and  I  yelled  loud  enough  to  raise  the 
dead.     I  have  always  had  a  most  powerful  voice. 

One  man  took  Ivens  on  a  horse  with  him,  and 
another  took  me.  A  number  of  men  continued  the 
search  for  Lloyd.  They  found  him  several  miles 
beyond  where  I  was  sitting.  He  had  reached  the 
"world,"  and  was  struggling  along  among  the  trees. 
They  brought  him  home  by  sheer  force,  for  he  was 
still  resolved  to  go  on.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  was  glad  to  see  a  child  whipped.  But  it  did  no  good; 
the  boy  had  a  mania  for  running  off,  and  more  than 
once  plunged  us  all  in  distress  by  his  capers. 

Lloyd  was  a  peculiar  child  in  more  ways  than  one. 
I  never  understood  him,  and  I  was  not  at  all  able  to 
manage  him.  He  was  fleet-footed  as  a  greyhound, 
and  strong  as  a  young  lion.  He  upset  all  authority, 
and  carried  Ivens  along  with  him  in  his  reckless 
behavior.  I  never  knew  what  real  trouble  was  until  I 
came  to  have  these  two  boys  to  look  after.  It  is  true 
that  Gus  was  a  source  of  perplexity,  and  occasionally 


76  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

he  frightened  me  by  some  of  his  capers;  but  he  was 
always  gentle  and  kind  and  sensible,  while  these  two 
boys  were  inconsiderate  and  restless,  and  as  indifferent 
to  consequences  as  a  couple  of  Newfoundland  pups. 
For  Ivens1  offenses  to  me,  he  has  been  overtaken  by 
regular  preacher's  retribution.  He  married  young, 
and  has  had  seven  boys  in  one  unbroken  line;  and 
may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  his  soul.  Gus,  on  the 
other  hand,  has  a  houseful  of  pretty  daughters,  and 
does  not  need  mercy  from  any  supernatural  source. 

Occasionally,  however,  Gus  frightened  Lib  and  me, 
but  never  "with  malice  aforethought  or  prepense11 
(if  the  lawyers  will  pardon  me  for  quoting  one  of  the 
absurdities  of  their  vernacular). 

Our  family  were  what  were  called,  in  those  times  of 
great  simplicity,  high  livers.  That  is,  we  had  meat 
three  times  a  day,  and  wheat  bread,  and  plenty  of 
preserves  and  other  sweets.  Mother  was  a  woman  of 
ideas.  If  she  had  lived  in  the  reign  of  fads  that  besets 
the  nation  at  this  time,  I  cannot  imagine  where  she 
would  have  found  a  stopping  place.  But  in  her  time, 
fads  were  few  and  far  between;  and  they  were  also 
very  weak  and  unobtrusive  little  things;  but  they 
were  the  progenitors  of  all  we  have  now,  and  of  a 
thousand  more  not  yet  ushered  in.     But  the  fads  of 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  11 

that  day — such  as  they  were — must  have  appealed  to 
my  mother's  prophetic  soul,  since  never  one  of  them 
put  its  nose  in  our  mental  atmosphere  that  she  did 
not  lasso  and  harness  to  the  chariot  of  her  progressive 
ideas.  So  when  there  began  to  be  talk  about  hygiene 
and  bathing  and  dieting,  it  actually  seemed  as  if  we 
were  to  be  drowned  first  and  starved  afterwards.  We 
were  permitted  to  eat  everything  the  family  ate  except 
at  supper,  when  we  were  provided  with  mush  and  milk 
and  put  to  bed  before  dark.  This  was  terrible.  At 
least  it  seemed  so  to  us.  Children  are  very  sensitive 
to  such  things.  I  remember  that  my  days  were 
clouded  with  gloom  just  because  of  this  new  edict;  if 
the  sun  had  gone  out  it  would  hardly  have  made  my 
heart  heavier. 

And  never  a  protest  did  Lib  or  I  utter.  But  Gus 
was  a  boy,  and  he  refused  to  stand  it.  He  said  noth- 
ing to  mother,  but  he  told  us  that  he  would  starve 
before  he  would  eat  mush  and  milk  and  go  to  bed  at 
sundown.  He  made  these  remarks  several  times  while 
eating  his  mush  and  milk  right  along,  and  con- 
sequently the  force  of  his  threat  was  weakened.  But 
one  evening  he  refused  to  eat.  He  said  he  simply 
would  not  live  to  be  so  imposed  upon.  Matters  began 
to  look  serious.      We  little  sisters   begged  him   to 


78  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

eat;  but  our  begging  and  our  too  evident  fright 
strengthened  his  resolve  to  starve  to  death  right  then 
and  there.  So  he  began  to  die;  and  he  did  die  accord- 
ing to  the  best  light  he  had  on  that  subject.  He 
staggered  around,  and  then  fell;  after  which  he  went 
through  the  maneuvers  of  a  chicken  with  its  head  off, 
flopping  about  fearfully,  but  gradually  subsiding  into 
convulsive  shivers,  and  then  perfect  repose. 

A,t  first  Lib  and  I  clung  to  each  other  in  inexpressi- 
ble terror.  Then  when  all  was  over  we  gave  such 
shrieks  as  brought  the  family  about  us  instantly.  In 
spasmodic  gasps  we  told  what  had  happened.  Mother 
marched  with  firm  strides  to  where  the  rawhide  was 
hanging,  and  was  only  one  second  in  bringing  the 
dead  to  life. 

Whether  Gus's  simulated  death  had  any  effect  on 
her  or  not  I  cannot  say,  but  it  was  not  long  before 
the  mush  and  milk  suppers  were  abandoned,  and  the 
sun  shone  again  in  our  baby  lives. 

But  of  all  the  youngsters  who  maneuvered  to  have 
their  own  way,  Lloyd  took  the  lead.  The  number  of 
schemes  he  hatched,  the  number  of  escapades  he 
engineered  to  certain  wreck,  the  number  of  times  he 
ran  off,  the  number  of  threats  he  made,  and  the  dire 
character  of  those  threats,  are  beyond  my  power  to 


A   8EARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  79 

recall.  But  for  my  folly  in  believing  he  would  do  as 
he  threatened,  I  would  have  had  more  peace  of  mind. 
But  it  has  already  been  shown  that  I  was  more  in- 
clined to  believe  my  fears  than  my  hopes,  and  so  he 
kept  me  in  hot  water  constantly.  Once — in  the 
height  of  my  career  as  a  story  writer — an  epoch  I 
have  not  yet  reached  in  this  narrative — I  wrote  a 
sketch  called  uGood  for  Naught."  It  was  quite  a 
literary  success.  Its  characters  were  all  drawn  from 
my  home  life.  Among  others  this  brother  Lloyd 
figured  in  it  under  the  name  of  Bill;  and  the  incidents 
I  described  therein  were  the  scarcely  overdrawn  occur- 
rences of  this  boy's  childhood. 

It  could  not  have  been  long  after  his  visit  to  the 
"world"  when  he  ran  off  and  walked  fifteen  miles  to 
Burnt  Prairie.  There  he  stopped  at  the  house  of  a 
stranger,  and  asked  to  stay  all  night.  Of  course,  no 
person  could  refuse  the  fair  haired,  pretty  little 
creature,  fashionably  dressed,  too,  for  that  part  of  the 
world,  and  betraying  all  the  marks  of  belonging  to 
"quality  folks,"  as  the  upper  class  was  called;  so  he 
was  welcomed  politely,  and  on  being  requested  "un- 
folded his  tale."  He  said  his  name  was  Pete 
Hargroves;  that  his  mother  was  a  widow  and  lived  in 
the  northern  part  of  the  state;  that  he  was  going  to 


80  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

Shawneetown  to  become  cabin  boy  on  a  steamer 
running  from  that  place  to  New  Orleans. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  he  was  starting  on 
his  journey  again,  when  his  host  told  him  what  day  of 
the  week  it  was,  adding  that  no  one  could  succeed 
who  broke  the  Sabbath  by  travelling.  Lloyd  was 
easily  persuaded  to  delay  his  trip.  Unfortunately  for 
his  intentions  he  concluded  to  farther  placate  the 
powers  above  by  going  with  the  family  to  Sunday 
school.  There  he  met  a  man  who  traded  at  father's 
store,  and  who  knew  our  children  by  sight. 

This  man  I  recall  as  one  of  the  familiar  figures  of 
my  childhood;  "Old  Steve  Merritt,"  He  probably 
was  not  old  at  all.  But  children  look  into  a  face  of 
forty  and  recognize  more  age  there  than  they  can  find 
in  a  face  of  eighty  when  they  themselves  have  crossed 
the  meridian  line.  Steve  Merritt  was  one  of  the 
staunchest  citizens  of  the  country.  He  was  a  lame 
man,  but  his  walk  denoted  great  decision  of  character 
in  spite  of  the  fact. 

After  Mr.  Merritt  had  some  conversation  with  the 
man  who  brought  Lloyd  to  the  school,  he  then  went 
to  Lloyd  and  asked  him  who  he  was,  and  where  he 
came  from.  Straight  as  could  be  Lloyd  repeated  the 
same  yarn;  his  name  was  Pete  Hargroves;  his  mother 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  81 

was  a  widow,  etc.  When  he  had  finished,  Mr.  Merritt 
said,  uNow,  young  man,  I  know  you.  You're  one  of 
Cale  Wilmans1  boys;  and  you've  run  off;  and  I'm  go- 
ing to  tote  you  home."  And  he  did.  In  the  evening 
of  that  same  day,  Mr.  Merritt  appeared  before  the 
door  on  horseback,  with  Lloyd  strapped  on  behind 
him.  Poor  mother  who  had  been  frantic  all  during 
his  absence,  succumbed  and  went  comfortably  to  bed. 
But  I  was  afraid  to  let  the  little  villain  out  of  my 
sight;  and  though  my  sight  was  blurred  by  crying 
until  my  eyes  looked  like  two  holes  burnt  in  a  red 
blanket,  and  my  white  eyebrows  showed  to  more 
startling  disadvantage  than  ever  before,  yet  I  kept  up, 
and  followed  him  wherever  he  went,  exerting  myself 
to  entertain  him,  too,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  each 
pulsation  of  my  aching  head  was  like  a  blow  from  a 
hammer. 

Neither  of  my  small  brothers  liked  to  work.  Put 
them  to  doing  anything  useful  and  they  tired  easily. 
Mother  used  to  tell  them  that  work  was  good  for 
them;  it  loosened  up  the  skin  so  they  could  grow. 
But  they  did  not  want  to  grow.  They  wanted  to  be 
dwarfs  so  they  could  go  with  a  show  and  make  money 
easily.  And  Lloyd  would  tell  mother  what  he  would 
buy  for  her  when  he  got  to  be  a  dwarf  and  earned 


82  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

twenty-nine  million  dollars  a  week.  "And  when  Fm 
goin'  to  be  so  rich  you  oughtn't  to  make  me  work. 
And  I  won't  work  neither;  Til  kill  myself  first." 

"Bless  us  and  save  us!  It  runs  in  the  blood," 
laughed  mother;  and  then  she  told  him  how  (jus 
committed  suicide,  and  was  brought  back  to  life  with 
a  switch. 

uYes,"  he  said,  "but  Gus  didn't  know  how,  I'll  die 
dead  and  fast.  Til  make  a  sure  enough  die  of  it,  and 
then  you'll  feel  awful  bad  'cause  you  worked  me  so 
hard." 

Scarcely  a  day  passed  without  this  threat  in  one 
form  or  another,  and  it  became  a  permanent  joke 
among  the  town  boys  of  his  own  age — who,  by  the 
way,  never  called  him  anything  but  '"Pete  Hargroves" 
after  the  run  away  adventure  I  have  spoken  of. 

It  made  Lloyd  mad  to  be  called  by  this  name,  and 
he  had  fought  many  a  fight  because  of  it.  But  at 
last  he  was  forced  to  accept  it,  though  never  willingly. 

"Ain't  you  dead  yet,  Pete?"  they  would  ask  in 
feigned  surprise  at  seeing  him.  And  their  leave  tak- 
ing, after  being  with  him  awhile,  was  very  affecting. 
Some  of  them  would  weep  silently,  while  others 
sobbed  convulsively  or  blubbered  out  loud,  "We'll 
never  see  you  alive  again,  Pete." 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  83 

This  jocular  way  of  treating  the  matter  strengthened 
Lloyd's  resolution,  until  a  day  came  when  he  had  been 
worked  so  outrageously  human  nature  could  hold  out 
no  longer.  He  had  brought  in  three  baskets  of  chip-. 
had  set  the  chairs  up  to  the  table  twice,  and  gone  to 
a  neighbor  to  borrow  a  sleeve  pattern. 

"Durned  if  I'll  stand  this  any  longer,"  he  said  to 
himself  as  he  sauntered  into  the  parlor  to  be  out  of 
the  way  of  work.  "I  ain't  goin'  to  let  mother  run  this 
caravan  any  more.  I'm  tired  of  life.  It  don't  pay. 
Mother  says  Gus  tried  to  die  and  couldn't.  I  know 
he  could  a  died  just  as  natural  as  life  if  mother — I 
ain't  agoin'  to  call  her  mother.  I'm  agoin'  to  call  her 
lLiz'  like  old  Pete  Staten  does.  I  know  Gus  could  a 
died  if  mo — Liz — had  only  gumption  enough  to  let 
him  alone,  but  mothers  never  haves  any  sense  any 
how.  I've  knowed  this  ever  since  I  was  borned. 
Course  Gus  couldn't  stay  dead  when  they  was  a 
whippin  him.  He's  too  gritty  for  that.  Nobody'd 
stay  dead  and  take  a  poundin'.  Catch  'em  at  it. 
They'd  get  up  and  pitch  in,  unless  they  was  too 
awful,  mis'ble  dead,  and  then  nobody  wouldn't  pound 
'em.  Now,  then,  I'm  agoin'  to  die  dead.  I  ain't  got 
nothin'  to  live  for.  Moth — Liz — ain't  got  no  sense; 
she's  a  eejot.     The  baby's  meaner  than  anybody,  too; 


84  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

squack,  squack,  squack,  if  you  just  crook  your  finger 
at  her,  and  run  and  tell  moth — Liz.  And  then  there's 
them  boys,  durn  'em — 'boo  hoo,  boo  hoo — good  bye, 
Pete,  give  my  love  to  the  devil  when  you  die.1  I  hope 
there  is  a  sure  enough  devil,  and  that  he'll  get  every 
one  of  'em.  Durn  things  anyhow.  I'm  a  agoin'  to 
lay  me  down  and  die,  and  I'll  do  it  now  before  mo — 
Liz — wants  some  more  chips.  Won't  she  be  'sprised 
when  she  comes  in  and  finds  me  dead?  She'll  feel 
awful  bad  too,  goody!  goody!  I'd  like  to  be  back 
again  to  hear  her  howl.  She'll  feel  so  bad  that  she'll 
just  paw  the  ground  and  kick  up.  Now  here  goes 
this  caravan  for  a  long  journey." 

And  so  he  stretched  himself  out  on  his  back  and 
folded  his  hands  on  his  breast.  (At  least  this  was 
his  recollection  of  it  some  years  afterwards.)  Then 
he  got  to  wondering  if  there  is  a  devil,  and  the 
thought  brought  him  instantly  to  a  sitting  posture. 
This  small  iconoclast  had  always  doubted  the  exist- 
ence of  the  devil,  and  his  system  of  reasoning  on  the 
subject  was  not  bad.  Pausing  a  moment  as  he  sat 
there,  he  decided  that  there  was  nothing  in  it;  ''Cos 
if  there  was  he'd  a  had  mo — Liz — long  ago."  He  laid 
down  again  and  quieted  himself  to  his  last  sleep; 
then  he  craned  his  neck  up  and  looked  along  the  line 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  85 

of  his  body.  uDurn  that  hole  in  my  knee,"  he 
whined,  "it  spoils  the  looks  of  the  corpus;  makes  it 
appear  undignant."     Then  he  composed  his  epitaph: 

HERE   LIES    THE    BODY    OF    LLOYD    WILMANS.        HE   WAS 

THE     GOODEST     LITTLE      FELLER     EVER     LIVED — 

ONLY  NOBODY  DIDN'T  KNOW  IT.      HE  WOULD 

A     MADE     A     SMARTER     MAN    'n     GEORGE 

washington  or  old  solomon  if  he 
had  continered  to  reside  in  this 
world;  but  his  mother  made 
him  do  things  he  didn't 
want  to  do  till  she 
killed  him. 
"That'll  make  her  squeak;1  said  he.     "That's  the 
pizen   that'll  fetch  her."     Then   his  thoughts  went 
back  to  the  devil.     "Guess  I'd  better  pray  a  little  to 
make  it  safe  anyhow."     Rolling  his  eyes  upward  he 
said:     "Heavenly  Father,  I'm  a  dyin'.     Don't  let  the 
devil  get  me.     I  should  a  thought  you'd  a  put  a  end 
to  him  long  ago.     Maybe  you  have.     If  so,  bully.     If 
not,  then  you  can't  do  it  too  soon,  'cos  you  know  no- 
body's safe  with   him   rummagin'  round  loose — not 
even  me,  and  I'm  the  goodest  little  boy  there  is — Oh ! 
Lordy,  what's  that?" 

He  had  sprung  to  his  feet  with  a  very  red  face. 


86  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

The  object  of  his  excited  exclamation  was  a  dragon 
fly — his  special  abhorrence.  We  children  called  them 
devil's  darning  needles,  and  really  thought  it  probable 
that  they  had  some  special  connection  with  that  fear- 
ful individual  after  whom  they  were  named.  The 
dragon  fly  had  flown  in  through  the  open  door, 
touched  Lloyd's  little  clasped  hands  a  moment,  and 
fluttered  against  the  window  pane. 

uNow,  I've  got  you,1'  said  he;  so  he  took  a  small 
leather  sling  out  of  his  pocket  and  some  shot,  and 
began  to  fire  at  it.  He  had  almost  emptied  his  pocket 
of  shot — his  mouth,  rather — for  it  was  in  this  con- 
venient receptacle  he  deposited  them,  when  the  insect 
careened  backward  in  mid-air,  made  a  side  swoop 
almost  touching  his  tormentor's  head,  and  darted  from 
the  room.  At  this  moment  the  sound  of  a  voice 
reached  him  from  the  back  alley.  It  was  one  of  the 
boys  calling  him  out  to  get  another  chance  to  tease 
him. 

"You  can  'Oh!  Pete,'  and  lOh!  Pete,'  till  you're 
tired,"  said  he,  stretching  himself  once  more  upon  the 
carpet  and  composing  his  limbs  in  death.  "There 
ain't  no  Pete  as  I  knows  of,  and  no  Lloyd  either,  or 
won't  be  pretty  soon.     I  am  as  good  as  dead  already." 

He    had   scarcely  assumed   this  position  when  he 


A   SEARCH    FOB   FREEDOM.  87 

started  up  in  horror,  shouting  so  lustily  that  he 
brought  the  family  about  him  in  a  hurry. 

"I'm  snooted!  Fm  snooted!"  he  yelled,  jumping  up 
and  down  in  violent  excitement.  "I'm  shooted!  I'm 
snooted!" 

Mother  began  to  examine  his  body,  tearing  his 
clothes  off  in  extreme  consternation.  At  last  it  was 
apparent  that  there  was  no  hurt  on  him;  but  still  he 
roared,  "I'm  shooted!  Fm  shooted!" 

"You  little  dunce,"  said  mother,  "there's  nothing 
the  matter  with  you." 

"Oh!  there  is,  there  is,"  he  cried;  "Fm  shooted!  I 
swallered  a  shot!" 

And  this  was  the  outcome  of  his  suicidal  intention. 
He  was  so  glad  when  he  found  himself  safe  that  he 
brought  in  a  basket  of  chips  without  being  asked;  and 
he  gave  little  Emma  two  of  his  handsomest  marbles 
that  same  afternoon.  To  be  sure  he  took  them  from 
her  the  next  day,  but  let  us  not  mention  it.  "The 
goodest  little  boy  that  lives"  cannot  be  good  all  the 
time. 


CHAPTER  V. 


BROTHER    FINDLAY    COMES    TO    TOWN". 

The  aptest  word  I  can  apply  to  myself  as  a  child  is 
"aliveness."  I  was — in  my  own  way — tremendously 
alive.  That  this  aliveness  was  not  expressed  in  great 
bodily  activity  is  no  reason  for  doubting  that  the 
condition  existed.  It  betrayed  itself  in  my  love  of 
those  things  that  were  alive;  in  my  appreciation  of 
life;  in  my  disposition  to  protect  all  living  creatures. 
It  caused  me  a  pang  to  kill  anything,  even  the  things 
I  was  afraid  of;  as  snakes,  worms,  etc.  I  seemed  to 
enter  with  my  own  feelings  into  the  life  of  the  lower 
creatures.  I  had  a  perfect  passion  for  flowers  and  all 
growing  plants.  I  was  the  first  to  find  out  that  the 
recently  planted  garden  seeds  had  broken  the  mold 
and  come  through;  and  my  heart  warmed  with  glow- 
ing affection  for  every  one  of  them.  u0h !  you  little 
things,  here  you  are,"  I  would  think,  and  be  as  happy 
in  welcoming  them  as  if  they  had  been  long  lost 
friends. 

88 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  Otf 

I  was  fond  of  natural  history.  I  read  it  with  avidity. 
We  had  a  great  big  book  on  the  subject  in  our  limited 
collection,  and  I  poured  over  it  with  never  failing 
interest.  I  may  say  that  1  studied  it;  and  it  is  the 
only  thing  I  ever  studied  until  I  came  to  investigate 
the  mighty  subject  of  man.  I  never  studied  my  school 
books.  There  was  no  life  in  them;  nothing  but  dust 
and  ashes.  And  yet  I  learned  them  without  studying 
them,  and  slid  along  in  my  classes  better  than  the  ma- 
jority of  the  children;  but  they  were  soon  forgotten. 

In  the  study  of  natural  history,  as  given  in  this 
book,  and  carried  out  still  farther  by  my  great  interest 
in  living  things,  I  laid  the  foundation  of  my  entire 
future  life.  It  was  from  this  that  I  came  to  think  of 
the  law  of  growth,  and  man's  relation  to  it.  It  was 
also  from  the  study  of  natural  history,  aided  by  the 
education  I  had  derived  from  uThe  Arabian  Nights," 
that  I  began  to  look  upon  man  as  a  being  of  limitless 
power.  But  all  of  this  was  crushed  back  and  kept 
under  for  many  years.  The  seeds  of  a  mighty  truth 
were  buried  in  my  mind,  but  the  time  of  their  ap- 
pearance was  not  yet. 

In  the  meantime  I  jogged  along  under  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  children,  and  the  heavier  responsibility 
of  the  religious  ideas  that  began  to  be  crowded  upon  me. 


90  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

A  church  had  been  built  in  the  town,  and  a  preacher 
made  regular  visits.  Mother  soon  manifested  great 
interest  in  the  salvation  of  her  soul,  and  even  went  so 
far  as  to  become  a  sort  of  assistant  in  "bringing  other 
souls  to  the  Savior." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  real  wretchedness  of 
my  life  commenced.  I  was  a  sinner,  and  no  good 
actions  of  my  own  would  count  as  anything  in  my 
salvation.  I  did  not  believe  this,  but  it  was  finally 
borne  in  on  me  in  spite  of  my  mental  protests,  and  I 
ceased  to  resist  or  resent  it.  My  own  reasoning 
powers  I  had  good  cause  for  doubting,  and  I  suspended 
their  use  entirely.  In  doing  so  I  became  simply  a 
reservoir  for  the  fixed  beliefs  of  those  about  me.  I 
was  still  a  child,  and  a  very  young  child  for  such  an 
awful  doctrine  to  overtake  and  overwhelm. 

My  fairy  stories  were  all  lies,  and  I  was  a  liar  in 
repeating  them.  I  did  not  know  where  I  was  or  what 
I  was,  and  was  only  conscious  of  an  ever  present  dis- 
tress. It  was  almost  a  sin  for  me  to  love  the  children 
as  I  did,  and  a  fearful  sin  for  me  to  screen  them 
from  punishment,  as  I  had  formerly  done.  I  surely 
jeopardized  my  immortal  soul  every  time  I  told  a  lie 
for  them;  and  the  necessity  for  these  lies  was  greater 
than  ever,  as  the  bigger  they  became  the  more  mis- 


A   8EARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  91 

chievous  they  grew;  and  mother's  methods  of  restraint 
simply  aggravated  their  tendencies,  none  of  which 
were  bad,  though  they  all  ran  in  the  direction  of 
breaking  rules  established  for  their  restraint. 

I  had  come  under  the  dominion  of  a  great  fear.  I 
had  lost  the  foot-hold  of  self,  and  was  adrift.  There 
was  a  constant  internal  unrest.  It  was  as  if  some 
latent  power  imprisoned  in  my  breast  was  tearing  me 
to  pieces  in  order  to  escape. 

Even  now  I  wonder  what  it  was.  Is  reincarnation 
true?  I  am  told  that  many  persons  have  proof  that 
seems  positive  to  them,  that  they  existed  in  the  human 
form  before  their  present  incarnation.  I  cannot  say 
this  of  myself;  and  yet  I  have  mental  idiosyncrasies 
that  seem  to  refer  to  events  that  might  have  occurred 
ages  and  ages  ago.  But  in  trying  to  recall  these  far 
away  happenings  I  get  the  idea  that  I  was  not  then 
in  the  human  form;  or,  if  in  the  human  form,  that 
my  brain  was  of  the  crudest  character;  for  with  all 
such  retrospection  there  comes  a  numbness  of  the 
reasoning  faculties,  and  an  all  pervading  fear  of 
calamity,  as  if  my  life  at  that  time  had  been  in  the 
midst  of  untold  terrors. 

Upon  being  put  to  bed  I  rarely  failed  to  see  strange 
creatures,  part  human  and  part  animal,  and  I  was 


92  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

afraid  of  them.  That  these  forms  were  real  I  do  not 
doubt.  I  have  since  learned  that  everything  is  sub- 
stance, and  that  there  is  no  nothing;  therefore,  all  the 
forms  that  are  attributed  to  an  overwrought  imagina- 
tion are  substantial  forms.  Possibly  they  are  thought 
forms,  and  the  imagination  may  produce  them;  but 
for  the  time  they  exist  they  are  tangible  entities.  It 
may  be  they  are  so  frail  that  a  breath  can  dissolve 
them,  and  they  may  not  under  any  circumstance 
possess  enough  power  to  lift  a  hair,  but  they  are  surely 
real  so  long  as  they  exist.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
I  created  the  forms  of  which  I  was  so  afraid;  though 
there  are  persons  to  whom  I  have  related  these  experi- 
ences who  believe  them  to  be  the  spirits  of  animals 
not  yet  arrived  at  incarnation  in  the  human  shape. 

But,  whatever  their  cause,  they  followed  me,  very 
much  against  my  will,  far  along  into  my  maturer  years. 
In  spite  of  the  uneasiness  they  always  gave  me,  I  am 
glad  to  have  had  my  experience  with  them.  I  believe 
they  have  taught  me  one  of  the  greatest  lessons  of 
my  life;  namely,  that  thought  has  power  to  create 
without  the  use  of  the  hands,  and  also  without 
employing  any  visible  means  in  doing  it. 

I  say  "visible"  means,  because  means  will  be  used. 
Things  cannot  be  created  without  something  to  create 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  93 

with;  but  this  something  is  invisible  on  the  dull  plane 
of  sense  in  which  our  faculties  now  preside.  It  will 
belong  to  the  unseen  and  unexplored  forces  that 
surely  do  exist,  and  are  even  now  inviting  our  in- 
vestigation. 

And  this  suggests  the  possibility  that  the  East 
India  fakir  is  simply  a  person,  who,  by  long  training 
in  one  direction,  and  by  an  inherited  propensity  for 
this  peculiar  training,  does  actually  possess  the  power 
in  some  degree  to  create  by  his  thought. 

It  is  well  known  that  these  fakirs  are  the  descendants 
of  long  lines  of  fakirs;  men  who  have  given  their 
attention  to  nothing  else,  and  have  thus  come  into 
possession  of  more  power  in  this  particular  thing  than 
ordinary  men. 

At  the  same  time  I  do  not  believe  that  they  them- 
selves understand  the  power  they  use.  From  close 
observation  of  the  conditions  essential  to  a  manifesta- 
tion of  the  power,  they  have  learned  what  to  do  in 
order  to  bring  about  certain  results;  but  I  feel 
confident  that  the  law  underlying  the  manifestations 
is  a  dead  letter  to  them. 

To  illustrate:  A  fakir  or  magician  comes  out  into 
the  open  space  where  five  thousand  persons  are 
assembled  to  witness  his  performance.     He   takes  a 


94  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

ball  of  twine  and  throws  it  up  into  the  air;  he  holds 
one  end  of  the  twine,  and  the  ball  unwinds  as  it  goes 
up;  it  goes  up  so  high  that  it  is  out  of  sight.  He  then 
calls  his  assistant  and  tells  him  to  go  up  and  bring 
the  ball  down;  the  assistant  begins  to  climb  the  twine, 
and  keeps  ascending  until  he  too  is  out  of  sight. 
Presently  the  magician  calls  to  him  to  comedown; 
but  he  does  not  come.  Then  he  begins  to  climb  the 
twine  himself,  evidently  intending  to  bring  the  boy 
down  dead  or  alive.  The  spectators  meanwhile  are 
almost  breathless  in  astonishment.  They  are  intensely 
concentrated  on  the  performance. 

A  few  minutes  after  the  magician  has  disappeared 
in  the  upper  air,  one  leg  of  the  boy  is  thrown  down; 
then  the  other  leg,  and  an  arm,  etc.,  until  the  entire 
body  has  been  dissected  and  dropped  to  the  ground, 
where  it  is  covered  by  a  coarse  cloth.  Then  the 
magician  descends  winding  the  ball  of  twine  as  he 
comes.  Last  of  all  the  boy  crawls  out  from  under 
his  covering  entirely  uninjured. 

Five  thousand  men  have  been  looking  on,  and  they 
all  saw  the  thing  the  same  way.  Did  the  magician  have 
power  to  hypnotize  all  this  body  of  men,  and  make 
them  believe  they  saw  things  that  had  no  existence? 

It  seems  more  reasonable  to  believe  that  he  had 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  95 

power  to  literally  clothe  his  thoughts  out  of  the  ele- 
ments present  on  the  ground,  and  cause  them  to  take 
shape  for  the  time.  Furthermore,  it  may  be  that 
these  elements  were  human  elements  furnished  him 
by  the  men  present.  These  men  had  virtually  let  go 
of  themselves  through  the  power  of  expectation,  and 
had  become  almost  unconscious  of  their  existence.  In 
this  negative  attitude  the  life  element  within  them 
was,  in  a  measure,  under  obedience  to  the  magician's 
thought,  and  clothed  his  thought,  thus  rendering  it 
a  tangible  thing,  to  be  seen  by  all  persons  during  the 
few  moments  it  lasted. 

I  read  not  long  ago  that  an  attempt  had  been  made 
to  photograph  these  appearances  while  they  were  in 
existence,  and  that  the  effort  had  failed.  This  may 
have  been  true  or  it  may  not.  But  even  if  the  effort 
were  made,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  kodak  is 
not  a  reliable  instrument;  and  that  many  of  the  plates 
on  which  a  picture  is  expected  to  appear  remain  blank 
from  a  failure  to  get  a  perfect  focus.  The  fact  is, 
this  matter  has  never  been  submitted  to  any  kind  of 
scientific  test  at  all,  and  no  one  knows  the  philosophy 
of  it.  But  there  is  a  philosophy  connected  with  it, 
and  it  comes  within  the  range  of  natural  law.  We 
shall  understand  it  sometime. 


96  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

Yesterday  I  was  reading  an  article  on  this  subject, 
and  some  of  the  statements  were  really  so  miraculous 
as  to  be  almost  beyond  the  possibility  of  belief. 
"What  nonsense!"  I  thought.  And  then  I  thought 
again.  "Why,"  said  I  to  myself,  "it  is  this  thing  of 
doubting  statements  without  investigating  them  that 
has  so  limited  our  intelligence  and  our  knowledge  at 
this  time.  I  am  going  to  quit  doubting.  Better  be 
fooled  a  thousand  times  by  over  believing  than  to  be 
a  fool  forever  by  not  believing  at  all." 

At  this  juncture  in  came  Mrs.  Louisa  Southworth, 
to  whom  I  read  what  I  have  written  on  the  East  India 
performances,  as  recorded  above. 

uIs  it  not  possible,'1  asked  she,  "that  the  magician 
so  concentrates  the  minds  of  his  vast  audience  on 
what  he  is  doing,  or  the  thought  he  is  projecting,  rather, 
that  they  see  his  thought  with  the  mind's  eye  while 
it  is  entirely  invisible  to  the  eye  of  the  more  negative 
body?  This,"  she  continued,  "would  account  for  the 
fact  that  they  could  not  photograph  it." 

Mrs.  Southworth's  assumption  puts  the  entire  per- 
formance on  a  psychological  basis.  If  correct  it  would 
be  an  added  proof  that  thoughts  are  things,  and  that 
man  can  so  divorce  his  finer,  less  material  thought 
from  the  coarser  and  more  inert,  as  to  see  thought 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  97 

forms.  If  this  is  true  the  performance  could  be  pho- 
tographed, but  not  by  the  common  camera;  it  would 
require  a  more  delicate  invention,  which  reminds  me 
that  a  machine  for  photographing  thought  has  re- 
cently been  invented  and  stood  the  test  of  experiment 
well.  But  no  such  machine  as  this  has  been  used  for 
the  purpose  above  recorded. 

I  have  been  diverging  from  my  story.  I  must  con- 
fine myself  still  longer  to  the  life  I  passed  in  the  little 
old  town  where  I  was  born,  and  where  nearly  all  the 
friends  of  those  days  lie  buried. 

I  visited  this  place  in  1883,  after  thirty  years 
absence.  There  was  scarcely  a  soul  left  of  all  those  I 
had  once  known.  The  town  had  grown  into  a  beauti- 
ful place,  full  of  handsome  residences;  and  the  loco- 
motive had  superseded  the  old  four-horse  stage,  whose 
coming  and  going  had  once  been  the  leading  event  of 
the  week. 

One  day  as  I  was  walking  along  a  beautifully 
shaded  street  (during  the  visit  of  which  I  have  been 
speaking)  there  came  a  voice  behind  me  calling  my 
name,  and  the  sound  of  hurried  footsteps  with  it.  I 
turned  to  meet  the  dark,  handsome  face  of  a  stalwart 
stranger.  He  caught  me  by  both  hands.  ''Don't 
you    know    me,    Helen,    don't   you   know   me?1'   he 


98  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

asked.  I  did  not  know  him.  uDon't  you  remember 
little  Charley  Brown?"  I  tried  hard  to  recall  him. 
"Many's  the  night,"  he  went  on,  "that  I  have  slipped 
out  of  the  window  after  mother  put  me  to  bed,  and 
run  to  the  hall  where  the  dance  was  going  on,  on 
purpose  to  see  you  dance.  I  was  dead  in  love  with 
you  in  those  days,  and  your  utter  indifference  kept  my 
little  fool  heart  in  the  most  abjectly  tattered  condition 
imaginable." 

I  was  a  grown  young  lady  at  that  time,  and  Charley 
a  cub  of  eight  years.  That  he  had  recognized  me  at 
all  after  so  long  a  period  was  a  matter  of  surprise  and 
congratulation. 

The  log  house  in  which  I  was  born  was  still  stand- 
ing, and  probably  it  is  there  yet.  But  the  town  was 
the  saddest  place  1  ever  saw.  Nearly  all  the  old 
friends  were  dead,  and  those  who  remained  seemed 
even  more  dead  than  those  who  were  buried.  As  a 
feeble  light  in  a  dark  place  simply  renders  the  dark- 
ness more  visible,  so  the  small  amount  of  life  left  in 
these  old  friends  of  mine  seemed  to  register  the  life- 
lessness  of  their  condition.  Wherever  I  met  one  of 
them  the  question  came  up,  "Have  you  seen  Nancy 
Marks  yet?"  And  then  there  was  a  laugh  of  derision. 
Nancy  had  been  a  butt  for  ridicule  in  the  old  school 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  99 

days.  T  went  to  see  her,  and  soon  knew  why  they 
laughed  at  her.  She  was  the  only  soul  among  them 
who  had  gained  a  new  ylea  in  all  these  years.  She 
was  so  far  ahead  of  the  others  that  they  almost  be- 
lieved her  to  be  insane.  She  had  been  a  very  homely 
girl.  She  was  now,  in  my  eyes,  the  handsomest 
woman  in  town.  Her  face  was  radiant  with  the  light 
of  a  growing  soul;  and,  oh,  what  a  contrast  with  the 
other  faces  I  met! 

My  pretty  little  sister  Lib,  who  helped  me  fight  aunt 
Sally  Linthecum  in  defense  of  Gus,  was  living  there. 
She  had  married  a  merchant  of  the  town  and  was 
"powerful  fore-handed,1'  living  in  a  house  with  a  man- 
sard-roof. Both  herself  and  husband  were  members 
of  an  orthodox  church,  and  were  firmly  convinced  that 
I  was  on  the  straight  road  to  the  devil.  Indeed,  Lib 
had  been  convinced  of  this  many  years  before  my 
visit.  At  one  time  I  had  sent  her  some  papers  that 
were  an  advancement  on  the  old  lines  of  thought,  and 
they  had  frightened  her.  I  expect  she  took  my  case 
to  Jesus  and  agonized  over  it  for  a  week  before  she 
made  up  her  mind  what  course  to  pursue.  Then  she 
wrote  me.  She  asked  what  I  supposed  mother  would 
have  thought  of  my  permitting  a  paper,  such  as  I  had 
sent  her,  to  come  into  my  house.    At  was  a  long  letter 


100  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

full  of  reproaches,  and  also  of  doubts  of  my  character. 
It  wound  up  by  reference  to  my  children.  She  said 
she  was  sorry  for  them,  and  thought  I  had  better  send 
them  to  her  to  bring  up. 

I  thought  of  this  when  I  looked  at  her  children. 
They  possessed  a  measure  of  superficial  good  looks, 
but  they  were  a  different  type  from  mine.  How  could 
I  help  contrasting  their  faces  with  the  unusual  faces 
of  the  grown  up  children  I  had  left  in  California, 
whose  whole  lives  had  been  an  acquisition  of  new 
and  positive  truth,  and  whose  physical  organizations 
showed  the  power  of  such  truth  to  mold  the  external. 

I  went  to  this  place  to  spend  the  summer.  I  re- 
mained there  six  days. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  a  low  state  of  intelligence 
produces  negative  people  who  are  comparatively  power- 
less to  resist  disease.  At  the  time  I  was  a  child  and 
lived  in  this  town,  the  status  of  intelligence  was  much 
lower  than  it  was  when  I  returned  on  the  visit  I  have 
described.  But  the  new  people  were  strangers  to 
me.  The  old  ones  had  taken  the  consequence  of  their 
ignorance,  and  were  either  dead  or  dying.  There  were 
progressive  people  in  the  town,  as  there  are  in  all 
towns  of  its  size  at  this  day;  and  I  do  not  mean  to 
leave  the  impression  that  it  was  not  fully  up  to  other 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  101 

places  of  its  class,  but  simply  to  show  that  the  fcv 
old  friends  I  had  left  were  not  among  the  progressive 
ones,  but  had  stood  in  the  same  tvacks  -ii\  Mie  yeirs 
of  my  absence. 

When  I  first  remember  old  Fairfield  there  was  no 
preacher  there,  and  no  religious  privileges  beyond  the 
range  of  aunt  Sally's  slipper;  but  the  dismal  day  of 
the  preacher's  advent  dawned  in  the  course  of  time. 
His  name  was  Findlay.  He  was  a  gentle,  soft-spoken 
man,  tall  and  slender  and  pale,  who  used  "scriptor" 
language  in  his  conversation  wherever  he  could.  He 
came  once  in  three  weeks  to  our  town,  and  preached 
on  Saturday  night  and  Sunday  morning.  I  remember 
his  asking  me  one  evening  after  preaching — he  was 
stopping  with  us — if  the  Lord  had  blessed  the  dis- 
course to  my  uplifting.  I  was  only  a  little  thing,  and 
I  looked  him  in  the  face  earnestly,  hoping  some  light 
would  shine  from  his  eyes  that  might  make  the  mean- 
ing of  his  words  clear.  Then  he  asked  me  if  I  liked  the 
"serming."  Heaven  only  knows  what  inspired  me  to 
tell  him  the  truth.    It  surely  was  not  the  force  of  habit. 

"No,  sir,"  I  said,  UI  didn't  like  it  at  all." 

uWhy,  Helen,"  said  mother,  "what  was  the  matter 
with  the  sermon?" 

I  said  it  was  too  long. 


102  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

<  Ke  smiled  at  mother  in  a  very  indulgent  way,  and 
said  to  me,  buVwith  his  look  really  directed  to  her, 
^Xow.'my  ctear  little  girl,  when  you  hear  me  deliver- 
ing the  word  of  God  again,  and  feel  that  I  am  becom- 
ing prosy  and  uninteresting  and  that  it  is  time  to  stop, 
you  just  hold  up  your  hand." 

This  piece  of  facetiousness  cost  me  a  whipping  the 
very  next  day.  I  was  sitting  close  by  mother  in  the 
court  house,  where  the  brother  was  holding  forth  at 
his  morning  performance,  and  I  was  tired.  I  was 
always  tired  of  the  Lord's  day  and  all  its  practices. 
On  this  occasion  the  preacher  had  hardly  reached 
"secondly"  out  of  about  nineteen  of  his  headings, 
when  I  began  to  wiggle  my  hand  in  the  most  ener- 
getic manner,  literally  shaking  the  bench  on  which 
we  were  sitting.  Brother  Findlay  saw  me  and  was 
embarrassed,  and  could  hardly  proceed.  Then  mother 
saw  me  and  gave  me  a  look  that  brought  me  to  order. 
After  we  got  home  she  took  down  the  switch  and  paid 
me  for  my  folly  in  supposing  that  preachers  were 
more  truthful  than  other  people.  In  time  I  came  to 
look  back  on  this  whipping  as  the  most  salutary  and 
educational  of  any  I  had  ever  received. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


AT   A    CATHOLIC   SCHOOL. 

On  one  occasion  when  brother  Findlay  came  it  was 
late,  almost  time  for  his  Saturday  night's  audience  to 
assemble.  Mother  had  been  sent  for  by  a  sick  neigh- 
bor, but  expected  to  return  soon.  It  was  fearfully 
cold  and  he  had  ridden  forty  miles,  having  lost  his 
way  in  a  snow  storm.  He  was  as  prolific  of  scriptural 
sentences  as  usual.  As  he  stood  thawing  out  before 
the  fire  he  turned  to  me  in  a  grave  way  and  said: 

"My  little  sister,  I  have  fasted  since  mornin'  and 
would  fain  beg  a  little  bread  and  water." 

What  he  meant  was  fried  chicken,  hot  biscuit, 
preserves  and  coffee;  but  how  was  I  to  know?  My 
father  took  the  baby  out  of  my  arms  with  unusual 
alacrity,  and  a  look  of  preternatural  solemnity.  It  was 
a  look  that  always  made  me  uneasy,  even  though  I 
had  not  then  learned  that  it  resulted  from  an  effort  to 
keep  from  laughing. 

I  went  into  the  cheerless  dining  room  and  set  the 
table.     I  put  a  pitcher   of  water,  a  tumbler  and  a 

103 


104  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

loaf  of  bread  on  it.  I  hurried  back  and  brought  Mr. 
Findlay  out,  and  there  I  left  him  and  went  into  the 
warm  sitting  room  again.  Father  questioned  me 
apparently  in  deep  dejection,  frequently  turning  his 
face  away.  Then  mother  came,  and  finding  Mr. 
Findlay's  hat  and  overcoat,  began  to  question  father. 

"He  is  all  right,  Lib,"  father  assured  her;  "sit  down 
and  get  warm;  and  take  the  baby;  he  needs  you;  he  is 
sleepy." 

"But,  Caleb,  who  got  brother  Findlay's  supper?" 

"Helen  got  it,  and"— 

"Helen!"  sneered  mother.  "The  idea  of  her  getting 
supper!     Did  you  see  what  she  had  on  the  table?" 

"I  didn't  look  at  the  table,  but  he  told  her  what  to 
get.  Now  don't  go,  Lib;  you're  cold.  I'll  go  myself. 
You  take  the  baby;  he  has  the  colic.  Don't  you  see 
how  pale  he  looks?" 

Mother  would  not  be  detained.  She  rushed  into 
the  dining  room  where  she  found  the  disgusted 
preacher  shivering  over  his  dreadful  supper.  She 
brought  him  back  to  the  fire,  and  made  him  comfort- 
able while  she  cooked  him  a  royal  meal. 

When  it  was  all  over  I  was  threatened  with  the 
whip.  But  father  put  his  hand  on  it  where  it  hung 
against  the  wall.     "Not  to-night,  Lib,"  he  said.      His 


A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  105 

handsome  face,  always  frank  and  tender,  looked  quite 
grave,  though  not  stern. 

I  know  so  little  of  my  father.  He  was  a  humorous 
man.  He  saw  the  comical  side  of  everything.  He 
managed  to  get  a  good  deal  of  fun  out  of  the  children; 
but  we  were  a  little  bit  afraid  of  his  laugh.  He  must 
have  known  this,  and  being  one  of  Nature's  truest 
gentlemen,  he  often  tried  to  conceal  it  from  us.  This 
accounts  for  the  unnatural  solemnity  of  expression  he 
occasionally  wore.  He  had  his  opinion  of  preachers 
and  religion,  and  maintained  it  to  the  last.  A  few 
times  only  I  heard  him  express  himself  about  them. 
He  did  it  in  the  most  laughable  manner  imaginable. 
Even  mother  could  not  keep  her  face  straight,  though 
she  would  make  every  effort  to  silence  him.  I  never 
heard  him  speak  seriously  on  the  subject  but  once. 
He  was  talking  to  mother.  He  said,  "We  used  to 
have  such  good  times,  Lib,  before  you  joined  the 
church  and  became  absorbed  in  saving  souls.  It  is  all 
changed  now.  You  are  not  the  same  woman,  and  the 
children  are  not  the  same.  There  is  an  awful  shadow 
over  the  household." 

The  stage  from  Carmi  came  in  once  a  week,  and  it 
was  a  grand  event.  It  brought  a  few  letters  and  pa- 
pers, and  occasionally  some  passengers.    We  children 


106  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

used  to  swarm  out  on  the  road  to  meet  it,  and  often 
the  driver  would  take  us  up  and  give  us  a  ride. 

Later,  when  I  was  considered  too  large  a  girl  for 
such  sport,  I  would  be  permitted  to  go  to  the  hotel, 
and  there,  sitting  on  an  upper  porch  with  Nannie 
Wood,  the  hotel  keeper's  daughter,  we  watched  the  pas- 
sengers alight  and  took  note  of  their  dress  and  appear- 
ance.    This  was  among  our  most  exciting  pleasures. 

One  afternoon  while  watching,  a  strange  couple 
alighted;  or,  rather,  a  strange  trio,  for  there  were  three 
of  them;  and  perhaps  no  persons  in  all  the  world  have 
had  so  distinct  an  influence  in  my  development  as 
they  had. 

But  I  must  go  back  to  circumstances  which  happened 
before  this,  and  then  work  up  to  the  advent  of  these 
new  acquaintances. 

I  cannot  recall  my  exact  age  when  mother  resolved 
to  send  me  to  a  Catholic  school  in  a  distant  state.  I 
did  not  want  to  go,  but  that  was  of  no  consequence;  I 
had  to  go;  but  I  soon  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
get  away  as  quickly  as  I  could.  I  knew  my  parents  did 
not  know  the  secret  workings  of  the  place,  or  they 
would  not  have  kept  me  there.  It  was  impossible  to 
communicate  with  them  as  to  anything  derogatory 
to  the  institution.     Our  letters  were  all  read  before 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  107 

being  sent  out,  and  I  never  received  one  while  there 
that  had  not  been  broken  open. 

Ordinarily  we  were  treated  well  enough.  There 
was  nothing  to  complain  of  in  regard  to  our  accom- 
modation. The  fare,  though  plain,  was  wholesome 
and  abundant,  and  our  beds  were  comfortable,  though 
about  one  hundred  of  us  slept  in  a  single,  large,  well 
ventilated  room.  I  loved  the  most  of  the  nuns,  who 
were  our  teachers,  and  had  nothing  to  complain  of 
with  regard  to  their  treatment.  There  was  one  of 
them,  however,  who  was  very  cruel,  and  who  punished 
us  unmercifully.  I  only  had  occasion  to  come  under 
her  wrath  once,  and  I  do  not  doubt  but  the  event  is  as 
memorable  to  her  as  to  me.  She  was  a  small  woman 
and  of  Irish  nationality.  She  sat  in  the  common 
school  room  to  preserve  order.  Occasionally  a  girl 
was  sent  into  the  dormitory,  and  told  to  wait  there 
until  she  came. 

One  day  she  sent  me  up  there.     On  my  way  I  picked 

up  a  kitten.      How  it  came  to  be  there  I  have  no  idea 

since  every  such  thing  was  carefully  excluded  from 

the  building.     But  there  it  was  on  the  stair  steps,  and 

I  was  so  glad  to  see  it  that  I  could  not  love  it  enough. 

« 
I  carried  it  up  with  me,  and  nursed  it  to  sleep,  and 

laid  it  on  a  bed  close  by.      I  was  not  anticipating  a 


108  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

whipping  in  the  least,  and  was  quite  unprepared  to 
see  sister  Martha  bounce  into  the  room  with  one  of 
the  cruelest  rawhide  whips  I  had  ever  seen. 

Her  quick  eye  fell  on  the  kitten.  "Who  brought 
this  thing  up  here?"  she  asked. 

"I  did,  sister  Martha.     Don't  wake  it  up,'1  I  pleaded. 

She  caught  it  by  the  tail,  and  holding  it  at  arms' 
length  began  to  beat  it  with  such  dexterous  rapidity  as 
to  stupefy  my  wits  for  the  moment;  then  she  threw  it 
from  the  open  window,  by  which  I  was  sitting.  I 
leaned  out  to  see  the  tortured  creature  drag  itself 
under  the  house  as  if  its  back  was  broken.  A  whole 
tide  of  rage  was  surging  up  within  me,  which  I  would 
have  suppressed  but  for  what  followed. 

It  was  summer  time  and  we  children  wore  low- 
necked  and  short-sleeved  dresses.  Before  I  had  drawn 
back  from  the  window,  she  struck  me  on  the  bare 
neck  and  shoulder  savagely  and  with  lightning-like 
rapidity.  In  righting  my  position  I  struck  my  head 
on  the  window  sash  in  a  way  that  dazed  me.  I  got 
my  fleeing  senses  back  with  a  tremendous  effort;  an 
effort  that  nearly  cost  sister  Martha  her  life. 

What  happened  I  never  distinctly  knew.  I  jumped 
on  her  and  bore  her  down  with  my  weight.  I  was  an 
enormously  large  child  and  my  strength  was  phenom- 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  109 

enal.  I  tore  her  cap  off  and  pounded  her  unmercifully 
as  I  knelt  on  her  back  and  churned  her  with  my 
knees.  Then  I  came  to  my  senses,  and  was  frightened. 
It  was  my  screams,  not  hers,  that  b* ought  the  nuns 
about  us.  The  priest  came  and  took  me  away  through 
many  rooms  and  passages  blindfolded;  and  then  locked 
me  into  a  dungeon  where  I  remained  for  several  days. 

Once  a  day  a  slide  was  opened  and  a  pitcher  of  water 
and  loaf  of  bread  were  placed  on  a  table  close  by. 

There  was  a  very  hard  bed  in  there  and  a  pillow.  I 
cannot  at  all  remember  what  my  thoughts  were;  but 
being  a  child  of  fertile  imagination  and  inexhaustible 
hope,  I  bore  the  situation  with  wonderful  fortitude. 
I  recall  this  fact  perfectly.  I  did  not  cry  nor  waste 
any  effort  in  screaming;  I  sat  on  the  side  of  the  bed 
a  long  time,  and  then  lay  down  and  fell  asleep. 
When  I  awoke  I  was  unconscious  of  whether  it  was 
night  or  day.  The  strain  I  put  upon  my  eyes  to  see 
gave  me  the  impression  that  I  was  blind.  Then  I 
relaxed  my  effort  and  the  strain  passed  away,  leaving 
me  in  a  peculiar  frame  of  mind. 

I  had  always  played  with  dolls.  I  have  never  yet 
seen  a  child  so  fond  of  them  as  I  was.  It  had  been  a 
hard  thing  for  me  to  be  deprived  of  them  in  coming 
to  this  school,  and  often  of  a  night  I  would  take  one 


110  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

of  my  garments  and  roll  it  into  one  and  hold  it  all 
night  long.  I  was  horribly  lonesome  in  a  dumb  wayi 
but  bore  everything  patiently. 

Being  in  the  dungeon  and  thrown  on  my  own 
devices,  I  took  off  a  skirt  and  made  a  doll  of  it;  and 
oh,  what  a  comfort  it  was  to  me!  My  love  nature 
awakened,  and  with  it  ray  imagination.  I  began  to 
see  things  in  the  dark.  At  first  what  I  saw  was  only 
a  series  of  colored  balls  descending  from  above  and 
disappearing  as  they  neared  the  floor.  The  colors  on 
them  changed  almost  constantly.  After  a  time  the 
balls  came  in  flocks,  and  then  in  showers.  In  the 
course  of  a  day  or  two  I  was  surrounded  by  the  most 
indescribably  beautiful  sights  that  ever  were  witnessed. 
Now,  it  was  a  fountain  of  the  most  graceful  form, 
throwing  its  glittering  and  many  colored  jewels  up 
up,  a  hundred  feet  in  the  air,  from  whence  it  tumbled 
in  cataracts  of  such  luminous  and  glorious  colors  that 
no  pen  can  describe  them.  There  were  colors  that 
never  yet  have  been  seen,  and  forms  that  no  person  in 
real  life  has  conceived  of. 

Sometimes  for  hours  there  would  be  a  series  of 
geometrical  figures  made  out  of  diamonds  and  rubies 
and  other  precious  stones.  Then  again  these  brilliant 
jewels   would   be   woven  into  flowers  and   trees   and 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  Ill 

shrubbey.  Again,  long  isles  would  open  in  this  vast 
maze  of  glittering  shrubbery,  and  other  scenes  in  the 
distance  would  appear.  I  saw  nothing  that  was  alive, 
as  birds  or  human  beings.  It  was  all  still  life,  but  so 
changeful  and  so  wonderful  that  I  did  not  once  tire  of 
looking  at  it.  I  ate  my  bread  and  drank  my  water, 
but  never  spoke  to  the  person  who  brought  it.  After 
a  certain  length  of  time  had  expired,  the  priest  who 
superintended  the  establishment  came  to  the  opening 
and  asked  me  if  I  was  ready  to  ask  sister  Martha's 
pardon  for  my  offense.  I  refused  to  answer.  He 
waited  awhile  and  then  left.  It  was  not  long  before 
he  repeated  the  visit.  Again  I  refused  to  answer. 
After  this  performance  had  been  enacted  three  or  four 
times,  the  door  opened  and  he  came  in  with  a  lantern 
and  dragged  me  out  quite  blinded  with  the  light.  I 
was  taken  to  a  room  on  the  upper  floor  where  a 
number  of  the  nuns  were  assembled,  and  there  I  was 
forced  to  promise  under  fearful  threats  never  to  tell 
that  I  had  been  in  the  dungeon.  And  so  this  episode 
ended. 

Soon  after  this,  one  of  the  elder  girls  disappeared 
from  the  class  room.  It  was  said  that  she  was  sick. 
She  was  a  sulky,  disagreeable  girl,  and  very  little 
inquiry  was  made  concerning  her.      But  a  few  days 


112  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

after  her  disappearance,  I  myself  was  in  the  infirmary 
quite  ill  with  the  mumps,  and  through  a  half  open 
door  I  saw  her  led  into  the  room  adjoining  mine.  She 
was  in  a  deplorable  condition,  white  as  a  corpse,  and 
so  weak  it  took  two  of  the  nuns  to  support  her. 

The  door  was  closed  between  us,  but  by  some  over- 
sight it  was  left  unlocked;  so  I  watched  my  opportunity 
and  went  in.  She  too  had  been  in  the  dungeon  and 
the  awful  punishment  had  almost  killed  her.  She 
lingered  for  weeks  on  the  verge  of  death,  but  finally 
recovered. 

During  this  time  there  was  an  epidemic  of  sickness 
in  the  school,  and  some  of  the  household  servants  were 
promoted  to  the  position  of  nurses.  By  promises,  the 
girl  I  am  writing  of,  got  one  of  them  to  furnish  her 
with  pencil  and  paper,  on  which  she  wrote  a  few 
urgent  words  to  her  father.  This  was  conveyed 
secretly  to  the  post-office,  and  did  its  work.  Her 
father  came  and  took  her  home.  Later  still  he  sent 
four  officers  there  to  investigate  the  building.  But 
they  failed  to  find  the  dungeon;  and  everything  was 
peaceful  once  more.  I  longed  to  tell  those  men  all 
about  it,  but  not  one  moment  was  I  free  from  the  sur- 
veillance of  the  nuns. 

It  .  might   be   supposed   that   I  had   my  privileges 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  113 

curtailed  after  whipping  sister  Martha.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  seemed  to  be  the  sister  whose  privileges  were 
curtailed.  She  was  /more  gentle  in  the  school  room, 
and  I  fancied  she  was  treated  less  courteously  by  the 
other  sisters.  As  for  me,  I  was  "cock  of  the  walk" 
from  that  time  on.  I  think  it  likely  that  the  other  sis- 
ters hated  her,  and  were  glad  she  had  gotten  whipped. 

I  cannot  tell  why  it  was,  but  for  some  reason  or 
other  I  was  greatly  petted  and  favored  in  the  school 
by  both  nuns  and  the  father  confessor  who  frequently 
came  among  us.  Some  of  the  girls  got  down  on  their 
knees  and  kissed  the  hem  of  his  long  black  robe,  as  he 
passed  through  the  school  room.  All  of  them  arose 
to  their  feet  except  me.  All  I  ever  did  was  to  hide 
the  novel  I  was  reading  and  gaze  on  him  quietly.  I 
had  no  intention  of  being  disrespectful,  but  my  father 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  rising  from  his  chair  when 
his  little  daughters  entered  the  room,  and  providing 
us  with  seats  before  sitting  down  again  himself.  So 
it  was  simply  a  sort  of  second  nature  that  kept  me 
seated.  My  conduct  was  not  reproved;  and  the  priest 
would  approach  me  smiling  and  shake  hands  with  me. 
I  never  saw  him  offer  to  shake  hands  with  any  other 
girl. 

I  read  my  first  novel  here.     It  was f  "Alonzo   and 


114  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

Melissa.'1  It  was  a  tame  thing  to  me  after  the 
"Arabian  Nights,"  and  the  many  supplements  to  the 
"Arabian  Nights,"  that  I  myself  had  added.  But  all 
the  girls  were  reading  it  and  deeply  excited  over  it. 
The  only  enjoyment  I  got  out  of  it  was  in  the  fact  that 
it  was  stolen  fun.  I  suppose  I  thought  I  was  trampling 
sister  Martha's  immortal  soul  in  the  dirt  by  sitting  in 
her  very  presence  and  reading  that  trash  instead  of 
studying  my  lesson. 

"You  dreadful  old  thing,"  I  used  to  think  as  I  looked 
at  her;  "you  know  you  are  afraid  to  take  this  book 
from  me."  At  the  same  time  I  concealed  it  from  her 
sight  quite  carefully. 

We  were  compelled  to  attend  mass  whether  we 
wanted  to  or  not;  and  the  devotional  services  of  each 
day  in  the  week  were  excessive.  We  were  made  to 
kneel  bolt  upright  for  an  hour  at  a  time  every  morning, 
giving  the  responses  to  prayers  that  one  of  the  sisters 
read.  How  tired  we  became!  frequently  one  of  the 
weaker  girls  fainted  dead  away  and  was  carried  out 
limp  as  a  rag.  I  was  too  strong  for  any  such  ex- 
hibition; and  in  the  course  of  time  my  knees  became 
so  callous  that  I  could  kneel  as  easily  as  I  could  stand. 

I  neglected  to  tell  in  its  proper  place  of  how — on 
the  day  Sister  Martha  sent  me  up  into  the  dormitory 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  115 

to  wait  for  her  coming — that  I  got  restless  after  the 
cat  went  to  sleep  and  began  to  prospect  for  something 
to  do.  I  soon  found  a  decanter  of  holy  water  with 
which  I  was  quite  familiar,  having  heard  its  merits 
extolled  by  the  Catholic  girls  and  the  nuns  also.  It 
had  played  an  important  part  in  saving  the  sick  from 
dying,  and  in  keeping  souls  out  of  Purgatory,  etc.  I 
think  I  had  considerable  respect  for  the  stuff,  though 
I  was  not  quite  certain  of  it  until  some  two  weeks  later. 
However,  with  one  of  the  sudden  lapses  into  imbecility 
to  which  I  think  I  was  subject  at  that  age,  I  poured 
the  water  out  of  the  decanter  upon  the  head  of  a  girl 
in  the  yard  below,  and  then  filled  it  up  again  out  of 
one  of  the  pitchers.  I  felt  no  more  compunction  in 
committing  this  piece  of  diablerie  than  if  I  had  been  a 
Newfoundland  puppy. 

But  when — a  few  nights  after  I  was  released  frcm 
the  dungeon — a  perfectly  terrific  thunder  storm  arose, 
and  the  priest  was  sent  for  to  pray  and  sprinkle  the 
beds  with  holy  water,  and  I  saw  him  using  my  sub- 
stitute for  the  real  stuff,  I  was  frightened  and  awaited 
results  with  great  anxiety.  As  the  storm  soon  stopped 
I  suppose  the  Virgin  Mary,  to  whom  the  adjurations 
were  addressed,  did  not  know  the  difference;  but  it  was 
a  trick  I  never  ventured  to  repeat.     It  was  not  long 


116  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

after  this,  in  the  communion  services  the  priest  dis- 
covered that  the  silver  dish  which  had  always  held  the 
holy  bread  or  wafers  to  be  administered  on  that  solemn 
occasion  was  empty.  I  do  not  remember  what  was 
substituted  for  them,  nor  how  the  matter  ended. 
I  do  know,  however,  that  neither  Emma  Ready  nor  I 
thought  they  tasted  good,  and  we  would  not  have  eaten 
them  only  we  had  heard  repeatedly  that  they  turned 
to  blood  on  the  tongue  of  an  unsanctified  person. 
We  evidently  wanted  to  investigate  this  claim. 

Vacation  came  and  there  was  a  general  exodus.  It 
had  been  decided  by  my  parents  that  I  was  not  to  return 
home  for  another  year.  This  was  dreadful  for  me  to 
bear,  and  I  did  not  intend  to  bear  it.  Mr.  Ready,  who 
lived  in  Carmi,  just  twenty-five  miles  from  Fairfield, 
came  for  Emma  in  a  carriage.  I  was  only  permitted 
to  see  him  in  the  presence  of  one  of  the  nuns;  but  I 
communicated  with  him  by   means  of  his  daughter. 

There  were  so  many  carriages  coming  and  going 
through  the  great  iron  gates  that  day,  I  contrived  to 
slip  out  and  hide  by  the  roadside  a  half  mile  away. 
At  this  spot  Mr.  Ready  picked  me  up,  and  it  was  good- 
bye to  that  school  forever.  I  left  my  trunk  and  all 
I  had  except  the  clothes  I  wore,  and  never  recovered 
them,  though  there  was  an  effort  made  to  do  so. 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  117 

I  met  my  mother  in  Carmi.  She  was  on  a  visit  to 
my  grandfather  and  grandmother.  She  had  with  her 
the  baby  I  had  never  seen,  little  Julia;  this  child  and 
her  twin  sister,  who  was  then  dead,  had  been  born  a 
day  or  two  after  I  left  home.  How  I  had  longed  to 
see  this  new  baby,  and  how  I  had  cried  when  I  knew 
there  had  been  two  of  them,  and  only  one  alive. 

A  few  years  later  I  was  at  Emma  Ready's  wedding. 
She  was  a  girl  of  great  expectations  and  much  wealth 
for  that  day  and  part  of  the  country.  She  married  a 
brilliant  lawyer,  and  no  one  doubted  the  promise  of 
her  young  life.  It  was  only  ten  months  afterwards 
that  she  lay  in  her  coffin  with  her  dead  baby  on  her 
breast. 

Is  every  one  of  these  chapters  to  end  in  a  grave? 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE    DALTON    EPISODE. 

It  was  some  time  after  I  got  home  from  the  Catholic 
school  before  the  old  interests  took  hold  of  me  again. 
The  baby  was  not  my  baby,  and  I  did  not  like  it  much. 
It  had  only  weighed  two  and  one-half  pounds  when 
it  was  born,  and  at  the  time  I  first  saw  it,  was  the 
smallest,  most  inferior  little  thing  I  ever  looked  at. 
Its  head  was  too  big  and  its  hands  and  feet  not  big 
enough.  But  it  was  the  spunkiest  and  the  most 
precocious  youngster  of  the  lot.  Grandfather  Ridg- 
way — the  father  of  my  mother  and  of  little  aunt 
Mary — doted  on  this  poor  little,  saucy  little,  ugly 
little  fragment  of  humanity.  He  would  always  have 
it  in  his  arms  when  he  was  in  the  house.  It  could 
talk  before  it  was  eleven  months  old,  and  walked 
sometime  before  that. 

Grandfather  was  a  Whig  in  politics,  and  seemed  to 
take  endless  interest  in  the  newspapers.  I  can  see 
him  with  his  glasses  on  his  nose  as  he  sat  by  the 
window  with  a  paper  in  one  hand  and  this  mite  of  a 

118 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  119 

baby  tucked  away  in  his  other  arm,  she  reaching  out 
as  far  as  possible  and  wriggling  from  every  position 
he  assigned  her  for  the  purpose  of  kicking  the  paper 
to  make  it  rattle. 

"Now,  Jule,"  he  would  say,  "you  must  not  do  that; 
grandpa  '11  have  to  spank.  See  my  big  hand?"  And 
then  he  would  show  her  a  large,  fair  hand,  correspond- 
ing with  the  large,  fair  body  that  owned  it. 

"Me'll  pank  00,"  the  little  vixen  would  retort;  utee 
my  bid  hand?"  showing  a  hand  about  like  a  sparrow's 
claw.  Then  grandfather  would  laugh  a  laugh  that 
could  be  heard  the  other  side  of  town,  and  roar  out 
for  mother  to  come  and  witness  the  performance, 
which  the  graceless  baby  would  enact  as  often  as 
called  upon. 

More  than  once  I  have  seen  him  go  over  to  the 
saloon,  where  men  were  usually  congregated,  and  set 
her  on  the  counter,  when  he  would  produce  the  paper, 
and  the  two  would  again  rehearse  the  scene  whose 
only  claim  to  comicality  lay  in  the  contrast  between 
the  baby's  threats  and  her  weapons  for  executing 
them.  By  this  time  her  threats  had  been  so  greatly 
exaggerated  under  the  tutelage  of  those  two  past 
master  generals  in  deviltry — Lloyd  and  Ivens — as  to 
be  actually  bloodthirsty  and  terrifying. 


120  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

"Me'll  till  oo ;  me'll  frow  oo  on  ee  floor  and  pull  oor 
legs  out  and  pound  oo  to  def  wid  em;  tee  my  bid 
hands?  Oo'd  better  be  dood."  And  all  the  time  she 
was  saying  these  things  she  would  be  striking  him  in 
the  breast  with  blows  equal  in  force  to  those  of  a 
mouse's  tail;  and  her  little  feet — not  much  bigger 
than  a  hard  shell  June  bug — would  be  kicking  him 
with  indescribable  vigor. 

"Aint  she  got  the  sand?"  he  would  ask  between 
his  explosions  of  laughter.  And  then  he  would  ex- 
postulate with  her,  begging  her  to  spare  his  life, 
which  only  made  her  more  frantic  in  her  display  of 
muscular  force. 

I  recall  a  particular  day  when  grandfather  had  just 
come  to  our  house  after  an  absence  of  several  months. 
The  news  that  grandpa  Ridgway  had  come  flew  like 
lightning  through  the  town;  and  if  he  had  been  a 
lump  of  sugar  and  the  children  ants,  the  effect  would 
not  have  been  different.  They  came  pouring  into  our 
front  porch  from  every  direction;  dozens  of  them;  not 
only  the  "quality"  children,  but  poor  little  distressed 
mites,  the  victims  of  the  malarious  climate  and  of 
poverty,  their  faces  showing  every  particle  of  the 
small  amount  of  sunshine  the  weakened  action  of 
their  hearts  could  generate.     And  it  was,  "Howdy  do, 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  121 

piggy-wees;  lia,  ha,  ha,  but  grandpa's  glad  to  see  you; 
and  here's  my  little  Maggie,  and  here's  Mahaly,  and 
here's  Tom.  Well,  bless  my  life!  Ha,  ha,  ha,  this  is  a 
regular  ovation;  and  here  are  more  small  people 
coming  still;"  and  he  broke  away  from  the  crowd 
surrounding  him  and  strode  out  with  his  mighty  steps 
and  his  superb  strength  to  pick  up  a  crippled  child 
who  was  laboring  across  the  street  to  give  him 
greeting. 

uWhy  its  grandpa's  little  sweetheart,  aint  it?  Its 
my  dear  little  Sallie;  and  she  hasn't  forgotten  me 
either,  has  she?  Well  bless  her  soul  and  body;  and 
she's  growing  big,  too,  and  heavy;  my  stars,  how  heavy 
she  is!"  And  all  the  time  the  little  lame  creature  was 
clinging  to  him  with  tender  eyes  full  of  unspeakable 
love. 

This  little  one  paid  the  penalty  of  her  frailness 
soon  after.  But  Jule,  the  hero  of  so  many  mimic 
frays,  is  not  only  alive  and  well  at  this  time,  but 
crows  over  the  other  four  sisters  because  she  is  the 
tallest  one  of  them  all.  A  small  body  did  not  seem 
to  count  against  the  irrepressible  spirit  that  infused  it. 

Reference  has  been  made  to  a  certain  afternoon  when 
Nanny  Wood  and  I  sat  on  an  upper  balcony  at  her 
father's  hotel  and  watched  the  stage  come  in. 


122  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

As  the  dust-covered  vehicle  stopped,  the  door  swung 
open  and  a  young  man  with  a  large  forehead  got  out. 
Then  a  baby  was  poked  out  to  him  which  he  took 
hold  of  awkwardly;  last  a  woman  or  child — not  look- 
ing more  than  sixteen — climbed  out  backwards  and 
turning  round  took  a  languid  survey  of  the  house. 
She  had  on  a  white  swiss  mull  dress  with  pink  ribbon 
garniture.  Her  eyes  were  large  and  pensive  and  dark, 
and  her  hair  was  black  as  midnight  and  hung  in  pro- 
fuse curls  far  below  her  waist  line.  She  was  very 
dusty  and  "mussy"  in  her  appearance,  but  she  was 
wonderfully  pretty  and  looked  more  like  a  fancy 
picture  than  a  real  woman. 

Mrs.  Wood  brought  the  trio  up  stairs  and  gave 
them  a  room  opening  on  the  veranda  where  Nan  and 
I  were  sitting.  The  baby  kept  up  an  unbroken  cry 
that  hurt  the  little  mother  heart  of  me;  and  presently 
from  the  sound  of  the  voices  inside  I  knew  that  there 
was  more  than  one  of  them  crying. 

I  was  never  a  bold  child,  but  I  thought  I  knew  that 
I  could  relieve  the  baby,  and  so  I  summoned  all  my 
courage  and  knocked  at  the  door.  "Please  let  me 
take  the  baby,"  I  said;  "I  can  quiet  him;  I  am  used  to 
babies." 

"Are  you?      Oh,   dear!    I  am  not;  I  don't  know 


A   8EARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  123 

what  to  do  with  him,"  said  his  little  mother,  still  cry- 
ing like  a  baby  herself,  which  she  really  was. 

1  took  the  child  down  stairs  into  the  kitchen  and 
got  some  warm  water,  into  which  I  plunged  him  up 
to  his  neck.  He  was  dirty  and  neglected  and  chafed 
until  the  raw  flesh  was  in  an  awful  condition.  I 
worked  with  him  an  hour,  and  finally  by  the  aid  of 
cooling  restoratives  and  by  powdering  him  with  starch 
I  made  him  comfortable  and  happy.  Mrs.  Wood 
found  some  little  slips  that  had  belonged  to  one  of 
her  babies  years  back,  and  brought  them  to  me.  Nan 
tore  up  some  old  sheets  into  napkins  for  him,  for 
actually  he  seemed  to  have  almost  no  changes  of 
clothes  at  all. 

When  I  carried  him  back  he  was  cooing  cheerfully, 
and  presently  fell  asleep  and  slept  for  hours. 

The  next  day  the  baby  was  crying  again  and  could 
not  be  soothed.  Then  this  little  mother  found  out 
where  I  lived,  and  brought  the  child  to  me.  She 
looked  fresher  than  on  her  arrival,  but  had  on  another 
ball  room  costume,  her  dress  being  a  pink  tarlatan 
trimmed  with  white  ribbon.  She  was  evidently  afraid 
of  mother,  and  only  at  home  with  me.  For  my  part 
I  was  a  little  afraid  of  her;  for  I  saw  instantly  that 
she  was  a  college  bred  girl,  and  I  felt  my  ignorance 


124  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

in  her  presence.  But  I  knew  more  about  babies  than 
she  did;  and  I  perceived  that  she  attached  so  great  an 
importance  to  this  fact  that  she  was  ready  to  doff  all 
her  laurels  before  my  superiority  in  the  only  knowl- 
edge she  now  valued. 

Friendships  ripen  rapidly  between  young  people. 
My  new  friend  was  several  years  older  than  I,  but  did 
not  seem  to  know  it.  "You  see  you  know  so  much," 
she  said,  "you  really  might  be  forty  years  old.  I  have 
never  seen  such  true  wisdom  in  one  so  young.  I  do 
hope  you  will  like  me  and  be  my  friend,  for  I  am 
already  so  in  love  with  you.  I  have  never  met  such  a 
grand  girl." 

Now,  this  was  praise  indeed,  and  I  drank  it  in 
joyously.  That  this  beautiful  woman,  who  could 
paint  pictures  and  play  the  piano  and  write  poems, 
should  say  such  things  about  me,  and  believe  them 
too,  for  she  did  believe  them — being  but  a  helpless 
little  puss  after  all — was  just  the  cordial  I  needed  to 
strengthen  every  faculty  of  my  mind,  and  to  awaken 
new  faculties  undreamed  of  before. 

In  the  story  of  "Good  for  Naught,"  one  of  my 
literary  successes,  I  have  described  this  Dr.  Dalton, 
and  I  will  reproduce  the  description  here: 

"He  was  educated  for  a  physician.      He   thought 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  125 

himself  a  mechanical  genius,  and  really  was  one,  if  he 
could  have  stuck  to  anything  long  enough  to  make  a 
success  of  it.  In  reality  he  was  fit  for  nothing  at  all, 
unless  it  might  be  an  angel.  It  is  not  positively 
asserted  that  he  was  fit  for  that.  If,  however,  the 
absence  of  evil,  the  negative  virtue  of  harmlessness, 
together  with  a  happy  disposition  are  the  requisite 
attributes,  the  idea  occurs  that  he  might  have  been 
intended  'to  loaf  around  the  throne,1  as  John  Hay 
expresses  it,  and  that  he  would  have  answered  in  that 
capacity  as  well  as  a  better  man.  At  all  events,  he 
had  no  capacity  for  getting  along  in  this  wooden 
world.  He  was  a  busy  fellow,  always  working  at 
something  of  no  possible  utility,  and  neglecting  his 
practice  to  do  it. 

uHe  made  models  of  impossible  machines;  he  had  a 
model  quartz  mill  with  ever  so  many  stamps  in  it.  It 
came  in  time  to  be  used  as  the  family  coffee  mill — the 
whole  family  collecting  about  it  every  morning  to 
watch  the  little  stamps  as  they  pounded  the  grains  of 
coffee  into  powder.  He  had  a  model  reaping  machine 
which  could  be  made  to  mow  its  way  through  a 
cabbage  head,  in  consequence  of  which  cold-slaw 
became  a  favorite  dish  among  them.  He  had  a  model 
steamship,  and  other  models,  constructed  out  of  cigar 


126  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

boxes  principally,  and  nearly  all  of  them  unfinished, 
or  finished  so  lingeringly  that  the  latter  end  of  them 
appeared  to  have  forgotten  the  beginning. 

"The  doctor  made  the  same  impression  on  an 
observant  person  that  his  models  did.  He  was  un- 
finished; he  was  all  there,  but  there  was  not  a  solitary 
rivet  to  fasten  his  faculties  in  position;  and  in  the 
general  mixing  up  of  him  since  his  birth,  nature 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  original  intention  of 
his  design.  He  had  the  brightest,  most  interested  and 
innocent  eyes  ever  seen;  his  forehead  was  large  and 
bare;  and  as  he  had  but  the  segment  of  a  nose  like  a 
baby's,  and  a  rudimentary  mouth  like  a  tadpole's,  he 
created  the  belief  that  he  had  been  born  prematurely 
and  had  never  caught  up." 

At  an  early  age,  while  yet  a  college  student  in 
Louisville,  Kentucky,  he  had  run  away  with,  and 
married  a  pretty  school  girl  who  had  never  perpetrated 
the  first  useful  act  in  her  mortal  life.  When  the 
boy's  father  heard  of  it  and  went  after  the  little  fools, 
he  found  them  up  four  flights  in  a  seven-by-nine 
room  under  the  roof,  vowing  eternal  constancy 
throughout  all  the  heavenly  future,  without  enough 
money  between  them  to  buy  a  scuttle  of  coal.  The 
sight  of  his  helpless  boy  and  the  beautiful  child  wife 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  127 

disarmed  his  anger,  and  being  a  jolly  old  soul  his 
vengeance  ended  in  laughter. 

"'Here's  richness,"  quoth  he;  "married  in  Lilliput 
and  keeping  house  under  a  cabbage  leaf.11 

He  did  what  he  could  for  them  time  and  again, 
and  finally  sent  them  way  out  on  the  borders  of 
civilization  to  get  rid  of  them. 

"I  guess  you'll  not  starve,  Jack,11  he  said;  "there's  a 
special  providence  for  fools  and  children,  and  you  can 
claim  protection  under  either  clause  of  the  provision." 

And  so  they  landed  out  of  the  stage  in  old  Fairfield 
that  summer  afternoon,  where  the  doctor  began  to 
tinker  the  neighbor's  bodies  when  he  could  spare  time 
from  his  toys,  which  was  a  great  annoyance  to  him; 
so  great  that  he  was  frequently  known  to  hide  under 
the  bed  when  a  knock  that  sounded  at  all  ominous 
came  upon  the  door,  while  his  little  wife  met  the 
visitor  and  serenely  lied  about  her  husband^  absence. 
She  had  been  but  sixteen  years  old,  while  her 
venerable  husband  was  approaching  the  dotage  of 
twenty-one,  when  the  baby  put  in  an  appearance. 
And  a  venturesome  infant  he  must  have  been  to  come 
into  life  under  the  guardianship  of  those  other 
infants — his  parents.  And  yet,  with  what  must  be 
regarded  as  an  inherited  recklessness  of  consequences, 


128  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

he  had  hurried  along  like  other  bald-headed  tyrants 
from  "No-man's  Land,"  even  laughing  at  the  fore- 
bodings of  the  wise,  and  conducting  himself  with  an 
irrepressible  jollity  highly  reprehensible  under  the 
circumstances. 

Mrs.  Dalton  had  a  great  dread  of  the  mature 
matrons  of  the  place,  but  she  clung  to  me  with  an 
intensity  of  girlish  affection  characteristic  of  that 
youthful  age.  I  was  surprised  and  flattered  by  her 
preference,  and  secretly  thought  her  the  loveliest  and 
brightest  of  human  beings — aunt  Mary  being  at  a 
young  ladies  finishing  school  and  quite  out  of  my  life 
at  this  time. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  Mrs.  Dalton  captivated  the 
awakening  fancy  of  an  imaginative  child  like  me. 
She  was  a  new  revelation.  She  could  play  the  piano, 
though  there  was  not  one  within  twenty  miles  of  the 
place;  yet  she  could  play  it,  and  that  meant  so  much. 
She  had  a  guitar  on  which  she  played,  and  her  voice 
was  exquisite.  She  could  compose  poetry;  real  poetry. 
I  would  not  be  sure  of  this  only  by  knowing  that 
George  D.  Prentice  of  the  Louisville  Journal  bought 
it  and  paid  for  it.  He  was  a  poet  himself  and  a  judge 
of  a  poem's  merits. 

She  painted  in  oil  and  in  water  colors,  and  could 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  129 

make  excellent  likenesses  of  people.  She  often 
painted  my  picture  and  praised  the  coloring  of  my 
hair  and  complexion,  so  that  I  almost  forgot  I  was 
not  the  family  beauty.  She  really  had  very  great 
genius  for  drawing.  Her  little  hands  flew  over  the 
paper,  and  the  beautiful  forms  of  nature  sprang  like 
magic  beneath  them.  She  was  a  strangely  gifted 
creature,  this  young  wife,  without  one  practical  idea 
in  the  world.  She  knew  nothing  about  cooking, 
housekeeping  or  the  care  of  her  child.  I,  having 
been  brought  up  in  an  orderly  family,  knew  all  these 
things  theoretically,  though  so  far  I  had  not  made 
much  application  of  my  knowledge.  But  now  here 
was  some  one  who  seemed  in  a  measure  dependent 
upon  my  superior  ability;  who  regarded  my  few 
practical  accomplishments  as  evidences  of  amazing 
wisdom.  This  flattered  me,  and  caused  me  to  attempt 
the  dizziest  heights  of  housewifery.  Sometimes  when 
pressed  by  necessity  I  even  tried  bread  baking.  How- 
ever, as  these  attempts  were  rather  too  much  for  my 
natural  laziness,  I  usually  smuggled  it  from  mother's 
pantry  and  carried  it  to  them. 

I  remember  the  first  meal  in  the  house  after  they 
went  to  housekeeping.  I  got  it.  It  was  about  my 
second   attempt    in    this    direction,    my    first    being 


130  A    SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

brother  Findlay's  supper.  We  had  ham  and  eggs.  I 
knew  how  to  fry  ham,  and  felt  that  there  was  no  in- 
surmountable obstruction  between  me  and  the  cooking 
of  eggs.  Mrs.  Dalton  helped  me,  doing  everything  I 
told  her  to  do  most  obediently.  We  had  a  new  tin 
coffee  pot  and  made  some  tea  in  it.  Mother  had  sent 
down  some  preserved  fruit  and  a  pie  and  pickles. 
But  when  we  sat  down  to  the  table  there  was  no 
bread.  Actually  the  intensity  of  my  chagrin  at  this 
discovery  is  beyond  description.  It  seemed  as  if  my 
character  was  ruined.  Ordinarily  I  did  not  care 
much  what  people  thought  of  me;  but  it  was  different 
with  these  people.  They  had  descended  into  my  life 
from  another  sphere.  They  brought  the  glory  of  a 
big  city  with  them;  and  I  had  never  seen  a  city,  but 
believed  that  the  wonders  revealed  by  Aladdin's  lamp 
were  tame  in  comparison. 

And  these  people  had  looked  on  me  as  a  wonder  in 
my  way.  I  dare  say  I  had  enhanced  their  good 
opinion  of  my  practical  ability  as  a  housekeeper  by 
the  use  of  the  "long  bow"  whenever  occasion  offered. 
And  now  I  was  caught.  The  affair  seemed  tragical. 
All  I  could  say  was,  "I  will  bring  some  bread,"  as  I 
snatched  my  sunbonnet  and  started  up  the  long  dusty 
street.      It   was   too   great   a   distance   to   go  home. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  131 

Dinner  would  be  cold  before  I  could  return.  Polly 
Gibson  lived  in  the  nearest  cottage,  and  she  had 
always  been  good  to  me;  I  would  go  there  and  ask  for 
some. 

I  entered  her  house  by  the  back  way.  It  appeared 
to  be  empty.  The  kitchen  was  beautifully  clean;  the 
smell  of  new  bread  loaded  the  air.  The  stove  door 
stood  open  and  the  golden  brown  loaves  were  showing 
fine  crinkles  on  the  sides.  I  did  not  wait  one  second. 
I  turned  them  into  my  apron  and  ran  down  the  back 
walk  and  out  of  the  gate  and  away.  I  had  not  been 
five  minutes  gone  when  we  drew  up  to  the  table 
again.  Mrs.  Dalton  said  the  supper  was  perfectly 
elegant,  and  the  doctor  praised  it  also.  But  1  knew 
more  about  that  supper  than  I  ever  told. 

The  disappearance  of  Polly's  bread  was  a  mighty 
event  for  that  small  town,  and  continued  to  be  a 
subject  of  conversation  off  and  on  for  years.  As  there 
were  no  tramps  in  those  days  and  no  one  to  suspect, 
the  affair  became  clothed  in  an  atmosphere  of 
superstition,  and  eventually  gave  Polly  a  spiritual 
halo,  which,  though  unseen,  had  a  tendency  to  put 
her  in  the  category  of  saints,  thus  increasing  the 
public  respect  for  her.  If  Mrs.  Dalton  and  the  doctor 
had  their  suspicions  they  never  mentioned  them;  and 


132  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

the  probability  is  that  if  they  had  known  the  truth  it 
would  only  have  been  regarded  as  another  triumph  of 
my  practical  ability.  But  I  can  honestly  say  that  this 
is  all  the  stealing  I  ever  did  in  my  life.  Of  course 
what  I  stole  from  our  own  pantry  and  carried  to  this 
family  of  children  does  not  count. 

It  is  inconceivable  to  what  an  extent  mother  would 
have  opened  her  eyes  could  she  have  seen  how  in- 
dustriously I  worked  for  the  Daltons.  At  home  I 
could  not  stir  up  a  spoonful  of  thickening  without 
"making  such  a  muss1'  that  she  would  rather  do  it 
herself  than  clean  up  after  me.  Another  duty  I 
shouldered  was  making  the  Dalton's  clothes.  Had 
any  one  related  this  as  a  fact  to  my  mother  it  would 
have  been  received  with  laughing  derision;  still  it  was 
true.  I  could  not  be  trusted  to  hem  a  dish  towel  at 
home,  but  here  I  boldly  cut  into  the  raw  material  and 
brought  forth  dresses  and  all  manner  of  garments  for 
the  baby.  It  goes  without  saying  that  our  own  baby 
was  always  with  me  in  my  visits  to  the  Daltons, 
otherwise  I  could  not  have  spent  so  much  time  there. 

Little  Charley's  dresses — the  way  I  made  them — 
were  models  of  simplicity.  They  were  mere  slips 
puckered  into  shape  with  a  drawing  string  in  the  top, 
and  sleeveless.     It  was  a  style  of  dress  to  be  appreciated 


A   8EARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  133 

in  hot  weather,  and  the  baby  frequently  showed  his 
appreciation  of  it  by  snaking  it  off  over  his  head  at 
the  risk  of  choking  himself,  and  going  naked.  It 
seems  hard  to  believe,  but  by  the  time  he  could  talk 
and  walk  this  young  iconoclast,  this  breaker  of 
customs,  if  not  of  images,  was  so  thoroughly  imbued 
with  the  family  traits  as  to  be  perfectly  satisfied  in 
the  garb  of  Cupid,  and  but  for  the  compulsion  which 
I  put  upon  him  would  never  have  worn  a  dress  at  all. 
uPaint  me,  raammee,"  he  used  to  say;  "paint  me  in 
boo  and  wed  stweaks  and  make  me  pooty." 

And  then  this  venerable  and  dignified  mother 
would  get  down  on  the  floor  with  her  paint  box,  and, 
laughing  at  the  various  devices  suggested  by  her 
imagination,  would  paint  his  fair,  fat  little  body  in  all 
the  colors  of  the  rainbow;  often  streaking  one  leg  in 
rings  and  the  other  in  perpendicular  bars  or  long 
spirals.  This  afforded  her  endless  amusement,  this 
and  a  hur.dred  other  little  ideas,  so  that  her  girlish 
laugh  wj  s  not  long  silent  in  the  house. 

It  was  no  rare  thing  for  me  in  my  frequent  visits 
tj  find  Charley  in  the  condition  described.  I  made  it 
my  first  business  in  such  a  case  to  wash  him  all  over, 
and  compel  him  to  submit  to  the  tyranny  of  clothes, 
even  if  I  had  to  slap  him  a  very  little  in  order  to  ac- 


134  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

coinplish  my  purpose.  So  it  came  about  that  he 
looked  up  to  me  and  respected  me  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  the  respect  he  had  for  any  one  else.  He  took 
very  little  notice  of  his  father  at  all,  but  his  mother 
was  his  chief  playmate.  She  sang  hundreds  of  songs 
to  him  and  to  me  as  well — Scotch,  German,  English 
and  Iribh  ballads;  all  the  nursery  rhymes;  snatches 
from  Moore,  Campbell  and  Scott  never  yet  set  to 
music.  She  told  us  fairy  stories  and  love  stories,  and 
when  her  supply  gave  out  she  made  up  others. 

If  it  chanced  that  I  was  away  for  several  days  I 
always  found  Charley  on  my  return  complete  ucock  of 
the  walk,11  and  ruling  things  with  a  high  hand.  Some- 
times I  was  a  little  discouraged  with  him,  and  won- 
dered if  he  would  ever  get  a  sufficient  sense  of  decency 
to  wear  his  clothes.  One  day  I  had  him  dressed  up 
right  prettily  and  took  him  to  the  store,  where  father 
gave  him  a  straw  hat  with  a  green  ribbon  around  the 
crown.  He  was  quite  proud  of  it  for  a  short  time,  and 
then  abandoned  it. 

About  this  time  one  of  our  town  ladies  called  on 
Mrs.  Dalton,  taking  her  two  little  daughters  with  her. 
These  children  were  dressed  very  showily;  and  poor 
little  Charley  stood  there  entirely  naked,  looking  at 
them   admiringly  and  probably  somewhat  enviously. 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  135 

He  felt  that  his  appearance  was  not  up  to  the  pre- 
vailing style.  Breaking  the  spell  of  ahsorption  into 
which  his  admiration  of  the  children  had  drawn  him, 
he  looked  at  his  mother  and  said  piteously,  "Where's 
my  hat,  niammee?" 

I  suppose  some  will  wonder  what  good  my  associa- 
tion with  this  family  could  possibly  do  me.  In  the 
first  place  their  influence  on  me  was  refining.  In  the 
second  place  they  had  books  and  knew  a  good  deal  of 
the  best  kind  of  literature,  and  were  not  entirely 
ignorant  of  science.  But  the  great  thing  was  that 
their  helplessness  called  for  my  strength,  and  it  re- 
sponded in  greater  quantities  than  I  imagined  possible. 
It  was  a  matter  of  pride  with  me  to  know  that  I  was 
so  necessary  to  them.  I  grew  more  capable;  I  learned 
to  sew  and  cut  garments  with  considerable  dexterity. 
I  came  to  making  Mrs.  Dalton's  dresses  so  that  she 
looked  lovely  in  them;  and  when  the  doctor's  father 
sent  them  money  to  come  to  Louisville  and  make  him 
a  visit  I  made  a  cloak  and  hat  for  her. 

I  was  foolish  enough  to  entrust  her  to  select  the 
material;  and  what  she  bought  was  dark  blue  goods 
with  a  white  stripe  in  it. 

"It  won't  do,"  I  said.  "That  white  stripe  makes  it 
unsuitable." 


136  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

uOh!  well  then  we  can  paint  it  out,"  was  her  sugges- 
tion. And  we  did.  We  painted  the  stripe  the  same 
color  as  the  body  of  the  goods,  and  made  it  up  into  a 
long,  warm  cloak  that  did  not  look  bad  on  her  at  all. 

We  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  over  the  paint  box 
and  brushes,  and  I  was  supposed  to  take  lessons,  but 
we  only  played  and  talked.  I  can  see  the  little  group 
now.  Charley  in  a  high  chair  and  his  mother  deco- 
rating him.  Sometimes  she  painted  a  wasp  on  his 
arm,  so  natural  that  he  was  afraid  of  it.  Again  it  was 
a  humming  bird  perched  on  one  of  his  fat  little 
shoulders,  or,  rather,  hovering  about  it,  so  consummate 
was  the  skill  with  which  she  worked  out  her  design. 
My  baby  sister  and  I  were  at  the  same  table,  both  en- 
grossed in  the  proceedings,  no  matter  what  they  were. 

"Make  a  'nake,  Henny,"  was  my  little  sister's  most 
frequent  order.  I  made  a  snake  by  twisting  a  piece 
of  india  rubber  into  a  close  snarl  and  leaving  it  to  un- 
curl itself. 

And  where  was  the  education  I  was  getting  out  of 
all  this? 

It  was  coming  to  me  in  many  ways.  It  was  not 
alone  what  was  said  and  done,  but  what  was  unsaid 
and  undone  that  was  teaching  me.  Instead  of  being 
thought  for,  as  in  my  own  family,  here  I  was  forced 


A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  137 

to  think  for  others.  The  helplessness  of  these  people 
gave  me  strength  and  push  and  a  sort  of  common- 
sense  business  courage  that  stands  me  in  hand  even 
yet.  Besides  this  I  learned  to  cut  garments  and  make 
them  with  great  skill,  and  this  afterwards  made  me 
very  useful  in  my  own  family.  As  there  was  no  mil- 
liner in  the  place,  I  made  pretty  hats  for  the  family 
out  of  drawn  muslins  and  silks.  These  hats  at  that 
early  stage  were  a  kind  of  cross  between  hats  and  bon- 
nets; but  they  were  lovely,  or,  at  least,  we  thought  so 
then.  I  am  sure  I  had  naturally  fine  artistic  tastes, 
and  was  a  great  lover  of  the  beautiful;  but  these  tastes 
were  improved  and  developed  by  contact  with  the  Dal- 
tons.  Moreover  an  element  of  refinement  pervaded 
their  conversation  and  manners,  and  I  was  not  slow  in 
being  impressed  by  it,  until,  as  I  began  to  enter  the 
region  of  young  ladyhood  it  was  said  of  me  by  the 
few  persons  in  Fairfield,  competent  of  judging,  that 
Helen  was  a  "perfect  lady"  in  her  manners,  and  that 
all  of  Lib  Wilmans'  children  were  uvery  pretty  be- 
haved indeed." 

To  be  called  a  lady-like  girl  in  those  days  was  great 
praise.  From  what  I  now  gather  in  my  contact  with 
young  ladies  of  this  time  I  think  perhaps  this  would 
be  considered  a  very  old-fashioned  idea.     Then,  too, 


138  A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

we  were  taught  how  to  entertain  our  guests;  also  that 
a  knowledge  of  standard  authors  was  essential  to  our 
social  position. 

The  intelligence  of  the  place  had  greatly  improved 
as  I  approached  womanhood,  and  we  young  girls  began 
to  take  pride  in  our  culture  and  elegance  of  demeanor. 
I  remember  once  when  aunt  Mary  was  home  from 
school  for  a  few  weeks  she  taught  me  how  to  enter  a 
room  gracefully.  The  only  secret  of  it  was  coming  in 
slowly.  She  said  a  certain  slowness  of  motion  gave 
the  appearance,  if  not  the  reality,  of  being  at  ease. 
Previous  to  this — in  my  embarrassment — I  had  come 
into  a  room  where  there  was  company  with  about  as 
much  grace  as  a  cow,  almost  upsetting  the  furniture 
by  my  ungainly  velocity.  And  after  I  was  in  and 
seated  T  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  myself,  es- 
pecially my  hands.  Aunt  Mary  changed  all  this. 
"Come  in  with  quiet  dignity,"  was  her  direction,  "sit 
down  on  a  chair  sidewise;  let  one  hand  hang  over  its 
back  while  the  other  rests  in  your  lap,  palm  upper- 
most. And  don't  be  ashamed  of  your  hands,  be- 
cause— except  my  own — they  are  the  prettiest  pair  in 
southern  Illinois.11  And  so  they  were  at  that  time; 
but  twenty-five  years  of  cooking  and  dishwashing 
ruined  their  beauty  afterwards. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


LLOYD,    BILLY   WILKES   AND   SALLY    START   A   CIRCUS. 

About  this  time  aunt  Mary  taught  me  how  to 
entertain  company.  Our  little  town  was  quite  gay, 
and  we  gave  and  attended  parties  frequently. 

When  the  party  was  at  our  house,  aunt  Mary  said  I 
had  no  right  to  indulge  myself  by  talking  to  the 
pleasantest  people  in  the  rooms.  On  the  contrary  T 
must  seek  out  the  retiring  and  bashful  and  neglected 
ones  and  unite  them  in  conversation  with  the  others, 
making  them  feel  at  ease;  thus  giving  them  all  the 
pleasure  I  could.  She  said  it  made  no  difference 
whether  I  had  a  good  time  or  not;  my  only  interest 
was  to  see  that  my  guests  were  happy. 

I  suppose  all  this  is  very  old-fashioned  stuff  now, 
but  at  that  time  our  reputations  were  built  on  what 
we  believed  to  be  good  manners,  together  with  a 
certain  knowledge  of  books. 

I  think  I  had  quite  a  good  understanding  of  the 
word  "lady,"  and  I  desired  most  earnestly  to  fill  my 
conception  of  it.     Even  then  I  knew  that  mere  ex- 

13© 


140  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

ternal  training  could  not  make  any  one  a  lady,  but 
that  the  true  quality  had  its  roots  deep  down  in  a  fine, 
just  nature.  To  be  a  true  lady  is  to  be  filled  with 
beautiful  conceptions  of  kindness  and  sweetness,  and 
to  permit  these  conceptions  to  shine  through  the  body 
and  permeate  the  actions.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say 
that  I  was  all  this,  but  simply  that  I  desired  to  be  it, 
and  that  I  probably  actualized  my  desire  in  some 
slight  degree. 

I  have  dwelt  very  little  upon  the  growth  of  the 
religious  idea  in  my  mind  in  these  later  chapters,  but 
it  was  there  all  the  time,  though  obscured  by  Mrs. 
Dalton's  influence.  Not  that  she  influenced  me 
against  it;  she  never  seemed  to  think  of  it  at  all,  and 
it  was  not  talked  of  between  us.  She  simply  in- 
terested me  in  other  things.  It  was  only  at  home 
that  I  was  under  the  cloud  of  the  fear  of  hell  and  a 
vengeful  God. 

Aunt  Mary  had  accepted  religion  in  her  character- 
istic way.  She  did  not  doubt  its  claims  at  all.  She 
believed  in  hell  and  a  vengeful  God,  and  thought  they 
were  needed  for  other  people,  but  not  for  herself.  She 
knew  these  terrors  were  not  for  her;  she  was  quite 
sure  of  her  own  salvation;  she  believed  that  her 
absence   from   heaven  would   render   that   charming 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  141 

abode  incomplete.  At  least  this  is  the  way  I  think 
she  felt,  and  I  am  sure  she  never  had  any  uneasiness 
on  the  subject.  She  said  she  intended  to  join  the 
church  when  she  got  too  old  to  dance,  but  not  before. 

This  settled  matters  so  far  as  she  was  concerned, 
but  it  left  me  in  the  same  wretched  condition.  Mother 
had  quit  dancing,  and  what  dancing  I  was  doing  was 
done  under  the  flagellation  of  an  accusing  conscience. 

All  this  time  I  was  not  only  carrying  the  burden  of 
my  own  sins,  but  of  my  brothers  and  sisters  as  well. 
Sometimes  1  would  begin  to  let  my  reason  operate, 
and  then  would  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  fact  that  none 
of  us  were  particularly  sinful.  Indeed,  we  were  good 
children,  and  harmonious  and  loving  and  generous, 
and  gave  mother  very  little  trouble.  But  I  did  not 
dare  follow  out  any  such  line  of  thought  as  this. 
It  was  treason  to  God,  who  said  that  all  were  sinners — 
every  one. 

Many  and  many  a  night  when  I  would  start  out  in 
my  thought  to  discover  what  sins  I  had  committed, 
and  could  find  none,  I  would  be  sorely  nonplused. 
But  I  always  fell  back  on  the  assumption  that  God 
knew,  and  God  said  we  were  all  sinners.  Then  the 
cloud  deepened  and  my  heart  weakened  until  it  felt 
like  lead  within  me.     I  am  sure  that  in  this  one  thing 


142  A    SEAKCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

I  laid  the  foundation  of  that  which  made  me  a 
physical  wreck  later  in  life. 

This  weakening  of  my  heart  broke  up  my  splendid 
circulation  in  time,  impaired  my  perfect  digestion  so 
that  every  vital  organ  was  underfed,  and  the  whole 
body  began  to  break  down.  These  results  were  slow 
in  coming,  however,  and  I  was  a  middle-aged  woman 
before  I  began  to  feel  their  fall  force. 

T  dread  the  writing  of  these  chapters  that  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  my  religious  experiences.  I  must 
live  over  the  same  experiences  in  writing  them,  and  I 
have  a  horror  of  them.  1  really  have  a  greater  horror 
of  them  now  as  I  review  them  from  my  present  stand- 
point than  I  had  in  going  through  them.  I  did  not 
fully  comprehend  how  death-dealing  they  were  to  the 
vital  principle  at  that  time.  I  simply  suffered  in  a 
dumb  way,  but  without  knowing  the  extent  of  the 
ruin  that  was  being  wrought  in  my  splendid  physical 
organization.  I  see  now  what  profanation  the  re- 
ligion of  the  age  is;  I  see  how  it  kills  as  it  goes,  thus 
working  out  its  own  deadly  scheme  inch  by  inch.  [ 
did  not  see  it  then.  My  brain  had  not  ripened  to  the 
power  of  such  perception;  so  I  simply  suffered  dumbly 
as  an  animal  might  suffer  from  some  dull,  slow  torture 
it  could  not  get  away  from. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  143 

If  I  relate  this  part  of  my  life  in  a  fragmentary 
manner  the  reader  will  understand  the  reason.  I  was 
naturally  a  happy  disposition.  I  was  interested  in 
everything  and  could  extract  happiness  from  each 
passing  event.  Trifles  were  not  trifles  to  me.  They 
had  meaning.  I  lived  deep  down  in  the  heart  of 
nature  and  was  content  simply  to  live  and  grow.  And 
this  condition — which  is  one  of  perfect  health — was 
poisoned  by  the  infamous  theological  rot  that  pervaded 
the  entire  mental  atmosphere  of  that  time.  Let  me 
drop  the  subject  for  a  while.  I  shall  have  to  come 
back  to  it  oftener  than  I  want  to,  and  oftener  than 
my  readers  will  want  me  to. 

I  have  not  done  with  my  childhood  yet.  I  still 
extract  merriment  out  of  my  recollection  of  the  ex- 
periences I  had  with  my  brothers  and  sisters  in  the  old 
log  house  so  long  ago.  The  house  had  grown  to  be 
an  eight-room  structure,  and  was  weather  boarded  over 
the  logs,  and  painted  white.  It  had  big  verandas  and 
was  comfortable,  and — for  that  place— quite  elegant. 

I  suppose  most  people  would  look  upon  our  old 
town  as  the  deadest  place  imaginable;  but  we  did  not 
seem  to  lack  for  excitement.  Everybody  knew  every- 
body's business,  and  gossip  was  more  wildly  interesting 
than   the  theatre  going  of  a  later  and  deader  time. 


144  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

Nobody  was  more  interested  in  the  town  gossip  than 
I  was.  I  was  too  eagerly  alive  not  to  want  to  know 
all  that  was  passing.  I  have  an  idea  that  people  must 
be  very  dead  indeed  before  they  cease  to  be  interested 
in  the  affairs  of  their  neighbors.  I  have  not  lost  this 
interest  yet,  and  never  expect  to.  I  think  that  I  have 
been  too  much  interested  in  them  and  that  it  has  been 
a  source  of  unhappiness.  I  have  borne  their  burdens 
to  my  own  grief,  not  knowing  that  burden  bearing 
is  a  foolish  thing  either  for  myself  or  others.  People 
of  wide  sympathies  flow  out  into  other  lives,  depleting 
themselves  and  doing  the  others  no  good. 

I  still  feel  this  same  outflowing,  but  it  carries  a 
healthier  thought  than  that  of  pity.  It  is  now  the 
bearer  of  courage  and  of  the  strength  that  conquers. 

Of  course,  everybody  knew  everybody  else  in  Fair- 
field. If  a  covered  wagon  stopped  in  the  place  long 
enough  to  water  the  jaded  horses  at  the  old  well  with 
the  creaking  windlass  and  the  "moss-covered  bucket," 
a  crowd  of  men  and  children  gathered  about  it  im- 
mediately. While  the  men  were  questioning  the 
owner  of  the  team,  we  youngsters  would  be  gazing  on 
the  many  tow  heads  protruding  from  under  the  wagon 
sheet.  A  silent  scrutiny,  long  protracted,  was  all  that 
usually   came   of   these  interviews.     Only  once  do  I 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  145 

remember  being  spoken  to,  and  for  years  I  retained 
the  remembrance  of  that  little  girl  as  a  creature  too 
bold  to  be  countenanced  by  other  members  of  her  sex. 
I  saw  nothing  but  her  head  with  its  unkempt  hair; 
her  eyes  were  bright  and  round  and  alert;  she  looked 
like  a  squirrel,  and  I  still  have  an  undefined  impression 
that  there  was  a  little  brown  curly  tail  raised  over 
her  back,  if  only  one  could  have  seen  through  the 
canvas  top  that  hid  her  body.  After  looking  at  me 
with  a  wide-awake,  irresponsible  expression  for  a  few 
moments,  she  said,  "My  name's  Roxy  Mariar  Turnip- 
seed;  what's  yourn?" 

I  think  I  jumped  nervously.  I  did  so  mentally  if 
not  physically.  I  was  so  stupefied  by  her  boldness  in 
speaking  at  all  that  I  overlooked  for  the  moment  the 
strangeness  of  her  name.  T  made  no  answer,  not 
because  I  did  not  want  to,  but  because  I  had  nothing 
to  say.  I  was  a  timid  child  and  could  not — all  of  a 
sudden — address  a  stranger.  Seeing  that  I  did  not 
answer,  her  round  eyes  began  to  gather  a  mighty  in- 
tent, and  her  nerveless  little  face  became  rigid  and 
brusque. 

"You're  proud,"  she  said.  "You  think  you're 
mighty  fine,  dressed  up  in  a  white  frock.  I  got  one 
myself  in   ma's  chist,  but  I  won't  war  it  everyday. 


146  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

I'm  too  keerful  of  it  for  that.  I  don't  believe  in  gals 
as  wars  their  best  clothes  week  days.  Then  they 
haint  got  nothin'  for  Sunday." 

A  long  pause,  and  then,  "Fow  haint  got  no  year 
bobs,  (ear  rings)  and  I  hev." 

As  the  wagon  rolled  along  the  street  I  could  see 
the  little  self-assertive  face  all  puckered  into  dauntless 
resolve  to  crush  my  pride,  until  a  corner  was  turned 
and  it  was  gone.  And  there  I  stood  helpless,  when  I 
might  have  told  her  that  my  father  kept  store,  and 
that  my  mother  had  a  silk  dress,  and  that  we  had  a 
lovely  carriage  with  a  pair  of  horses  that  were  big  and 
fat  and  handsome,  and  that  I  had  a  real  gold  chain 
and  locket.  Imagine  the  bitterness  of  my  regret 
under  such  circumstances.  The  only  comfort  I  took 
to  myself  whenever  I  reviewed  the  event,  as  I 
frequently  did,  was  to  decide  very  emphatically  that 
she  did  not  know  anything  about  ladylike  manners, 
and  that  she  was  so  ignorant  she  mispronounced  her 
words;  but  above  all  that  she  was  bold,  whereas  the 
beauty  of  a  girl  was  modesty,  and  not  to  speak  until 
she  is  spoken  to.  I  must  admit  that  this  was  very 
indifferent  satisfaction,  and  did  not  at  all  supersede 
my  desire  to  "use  her  up"  with  the  most  cruelly 
cutting  sarcasm;  but  it  was  my  only  resource. 


A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  147 

Mother  was  a  woman  of  immense  vitality.  I  am 
sure  of  it  simply  by  recalling  her  laugh,  though  I 
have  many  other  evidences  of  the  fact.  She  was  the 
right  material  for  making  a  famous  woman  in  more 
ways  than  one,  but  the  time  in  which  she  lived  was 
against  her  development.  I  fear  I  have  created  the 
impression  that  she  was  ill-natured.  Nothing  could 
be  farther  from  the  truth. 

I  never  saw  such  diversity  of  capacity  in  one  person. 
There  seemed  to  be  nothing  she  could  not  plan  out, 
and  then  hold  in  reserve  the  vitality  for  executing  it. 
And  her  laugh!  Such  a  variety  of  things  as  it  ex- 
pressed! It  was  as  intelligent  as  the  speech  of  most 
persons.  It  was  now  kindly  and  encouraging,  and 
now  sympathetic,  and  then  satirical;  always  full  of 
meaning.  She  was  fond  of  her  children  and  proud  of 
them.  She  was  probably  very  much  more  indulgent 
than  I  had  any  idea  of  at  the  time.  No  doubt  she 
held  us  in  check  sufficiently  to  make  us  feel  that  the 
reins  were  there,  and  that  it  was  no  use  to  pull  very 
far  in  a  forbidden  direction. 

One  evening  the  clouds  closed  down  darkly.  It  was 
going  to  storm.  Mother  got  us  all  in  and  ran  her 
bright,  sunshiny  eyes  over  us,  taking  a  mental  census 
no  doubt. 


148  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

"Where's  Lloyd  ?"  she  asked. 

"Should  think  you'd  know  'thout  asking"  said  Ivens. 

uIs  he  with  that  Wilkes  boy  again?" 

"Yes,  ma'm,  he  is;  and  him  and  Billy  Wilkes  is 
gettin'  ready  to  run  off,  cos  both  of  'em  won't  stand 
things  much  longer;  choppin'  wood  and  bein'  tied  to 
the  wood  pile,  and  bringin'  in  chips  and  carryin'  slops 
to  the  pigs,  an'  doin'  lots  of  things;  an'  I  don't  blame 
'em.    I  couldn't  stan'  it  myself,  but  my  sperit's  broke." 

The  fat  thing  that  made  this  rather  startling 
announcement  was  sitting  on  both  his  bare  feet  in  a 
chair.  His  round  black  eyes  shone  like  two  diamonds 
with  health  and  vitality;  his  cheeks  were  like  russet 
apples  in  which  the  rich  carmine  is  struggling  through 
the  soft  bronze;  his  pretty  red  mouth  was  pouched 
out,  and  his  double  chin  formed  a  cradle,  wherein  his 
real  chin — the  one  with  a  dimple  in  it — rested  peace- 
fully. As  he  spoke,  other  little  reproachful  dimples 
appeared  and  withdrew  again;  and  then  repose. 

Father  was  present.  He  looked  at  this  youngster 
whose  "sperit  was  broke;"  the  dancing  light  in  his 
eyes  gloomed  over  with  sudden  solemnity,  and  he 
turned  his  head  away. 

"Lloyd's  a  bad  boy,"  said  mother,  but  with  a  laugh 
that  cancelled  the  meaning  of  her  words.      It  was  a 


A   8EARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  149 

laugh  full  of  pride  for  this  precocious  little  imp,  and 
for  the  other  one  who  sat  there  defending  him. 
Father  caught  the  meaning  of  her  laugh,  and  there 
rose  before  him  a  vision  of  his  absent  son;  a  com- 
prehensive vision  that  covered  his  whole  life  from  the 
moment  the  nurse  laid  the  fair  twelve-pound  baby  in 
his  arms,  down  to  the  morning  of  the  present  day, 
when — as  he  phrased  it — he  had  "got  away  with  the 
whole  family  in  a  general  blow  up";  this  "blow  up" 
evidently  being  the  excuse  for  the  projected  run  away. 

Father  sat  forward,  bolt  upright,  in  his  chair,  and 
smilingly,  scratched  his  head. 

"It,"  he  said,  meaning  Lloyd;  "do  you  remember, 
Lib,  when  we  went  to  Graysville  to  see  William  and 
Caroline,  how  the  little  devil  would  stand  up  in  the 
carriage  all  the  time,  and  how  he  fought  you  for  try- 
ing to  hold  him?  He  wouldn't  even  let  you  touch  his 
dress  on  the  sly;  he  kept  looking  round  and  snatching 
it  out  of  your  hands,  till  pretty  soon  the  carriage  took 
a  bump  and  stood  still,  and  out  he  pitched  into  dust  a 
foot  deep." 

"And  it's  fortunate  the  dust  was  so  deep,"  said 
mother.  "But  wasn't  he  a  pickle  when  you  took  him 
up?" 

"And  do  you  remember  after  that,  how  you  couldn't 


150  A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

hold  him  tight  enough  to  satisfy  him?  But  wasn't 
he  scared?  'Twas  the  richest  thing  T  ever  saw.  That 
was  the  day  he  called  you  an  old  sinner.  'Hold  me, 
mamma,1  he  said;  'now,  mamma,  take  hold  o'  me 
dwess,1  and  he  gathered  up  a  little  piece  of  his  dress 
and  crowded  it  into  your  hand.  'Now,  if  oo  let  do  o' 
me,  mamma,  me'll  be  awfy  mad.  Me  don't  want  to 
fall  out  adain.'  " 

"Yes,"  said  mother,  "and  being  as  he  had  tormented 
the  life  out  of  me  before  he  fell  out,  I  thought  I 
would  torment  him  a  little  afterwards.  So  I  pre- 
tended to  be  very  indifferent,  and  would  let  his  dress 
slide  through  my  fingers,  till  he  got  so  worked  up  he 
gave  me  a  piece  of  his  mind.  'You  mean  old  tinner,' 
he  said.  'Me'll  trade  oo  off  and  dit  anudder  mamma. 
Where  did  me  dit  oo  anyhow?'  'I  expect  the  Lord 
gave  me  to  you,'  said  I.  'I  wish  he  hadn't  a  done  it,' 
said  he,  as  quick  as  a  flash,  flinging  a  look  backwards 
over  his  little  polished  white  shoulder,  'I  wish  he 
hadn't  a  done  it;  and  he  wouldn't  needer,  only  you're 
so  mean  he  didn't  want  you  hisself.'  " 

Father  laughed  hilariously.  "He  got  away  with 
you  there,  Lib,"  he  said;  "fact  is,  he's  been  getting 
away  with  all  of  us  ever  since.  But  wasn't  he  the 
prettiest  baby  that  ever  lived?" 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  151 

At  this  there  was  a  perfect  babble  of  voices  going 
up  in  protest.  It  was,  "You  said  I  was  the  prettiest," 
and  uyou  said  /  was  the  prettiest."  Even  the  boy 
whose  usperit  was  broke'1  forgot  his  calamitous  condi- 
tion to  say,  "Papa,  you  said  I  was  the  prettiest;"  while 
little  Emma  pressed  close  to  his  knee,  putting  in 
her  claims  with  her  dove-like  eyes,  even  though  her 
cupid's  bow  of  a  mouth  opened  not. 

"You  were  all  the  prettiest,"  said  he  kindly,  "each 
in  his  or  her  turn.11 

Presently  Lloyd  made  his  appearance,  coming  in 
with  a  gust  of  wind.  His  hair  was  all  tousled  up, 
and  his  blue  eyes  were  wide  open.  He  was  afraid  of  a 
storm,  and  the  storm  was  on  us.  He  sat  down  sulkily 
and  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes.  We  children  began 
to  ask  him  about  his  contemplated  trip,  but  he  made 
no  answer.  To  our  surprise  neither  father  nor  mother 
had  a  word  to  say  about  it,  and  were  evidently  at 
rest  in  their  minds,  and  I  believe  I  may  say  that 
they  were  rather  unusually  cheerful  in  their  talk. 
This  surprised  me  as  I  knew  that  Lloyd's  escapades 
had  given  them  both  no  less  trouble  than  they  had 
given  me. 

The  truth  is,  mother  and  Mrs.  Wilkes  had  entered 
into  a  conspiracy.     They  were  not  going  to  frustrate — 


152  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

openly — any  attempt  of  their  naughty  boys  to  run 
away.     They  would  try  other  means. 

The  next  day  Lloyd  made  up  quite  a  bundle  of 
clothes  and  provisions,  nobody  opposing  him,  and  car- 
ried them  over  to  Mrs.  Wilkes'  wood  pile,  where  Billy 
Wilkes  was  to  meet  him  with  a  similar  bundle. 

Now,  Billy  had  a  little  sister  Sally  who  worshiped 
him,  and  who  bore  all  of  his  snubs  with  great  forti- 
tude, never  questioning  his  right  to  say  what  he 
pleased  to  her;  and  Mrs.  Wilkes  told  us  later  how  this 
little  thing  followed  him  everywhere  while  he  was 
making  his  preparations  to  leave.  So,  watching  this 
wonderful  brother,  she  became  convinced  that  running 
away  was  a  great  performance,  and  the  one  thing  de- 
sirable above  all  other  things.  Presently  she  informed 
him  that  she  was  "doin'  to  wun  off  too." 

"Lawful  sakes!  You!1'  said  he  contemptuously, 
straightening  himself  up  and  looking  like  a  prince  of 
the  blood  in  this  young  lady's  eyes;  uwhy,  you're  a 
baby.  You  ain't  got  sense  enough  to  take  care  of 
yourself  yet." 

Sally  was  deeply  abashed  by  this  announcement, 
but  rallied  a  little  later,  and  asked  meekly: 

"Tant  oo  take  care  of  me,  Billy?" 

This  was  putting  a  new  face  on  the  matter.     Billy 


A    SEARCH     FOR    FREEDOM.  153 

thought  perhaps  he  could.  So  Sally  began  to  make 
up  a  bundle  for  herself.  She  went  to  the  dirty  clothes 
basket,  and  got  one  of  her  mother's  kitchen  aprons 
and  a  towel.  These  she  pinned  together  in  one  of  the 
most  demoralized  packages  ever  seen.  She  exhausted 
the  pin  cushion  in  disposing  of  its  stray  ends,  and 
even  then  the  result  was  shaky  and  uncertain,  besides 
being  so  "stickery,"  she  was  afraid  to  handle  it.  Mrs. 
Wilkes  found  it  the  next  day  at  the  wood  pile,  and 
chuckling  with  merriment  she  brought  it  over  and 
showed  it  to  mother  and  the  rest  of  us. 

When  these  two  babies  had  joined  the  other  baby — 
Lloyd — waiting  outside,  there  arose  a  dispute  about 
the  propriety  of  taking  Sally.  Lloyd  told  Billy  quite 
plainly  that  he  did  not  propose  working  to  help  sup- 
port her. 

"Yes,"  said  Billy,  "but  don't  you  see  her'll  help  us 
more'n  all  the  dorgs  and  the  pigs  throwed  in?  Her'll 
be  better'n  a  Shetland  pony.  Her  can  dance  and  sing 
a  song  and  make  two  speeches;  her's  just  what  we 
want  for  our  circus.  Should  think  you'd  have  gump- 
tion enough  to  see  that  for  yourself.  'Sides  that, 
she's  the  prettiest  little  girl  in  the  world." 

Lloyd  seemed  doubtful  of  Sally's  accomplishments; 
so  Billy  proposed  to  put  her  through  her  "paces"  and 


154  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

show  him  what  she  could  do.  Sally  by  this  time  began 
to  see  that  she  was  going  to  star  it  in  a  travelling 
circus,  and  became  wildly  elated.  She  sang  her  song 
in  such  a  joyous,  caroling,  sweet  little  voice  she  really 
would  have  brought  down  the  house  in  the  best 
theatre  in  the  world.  But,  as  often  happens  with  su- 
perlative genius,  her  pearls  were  cast  before  swine. 
Lloyd  gave  a  sniff  of  contempt. 

"Her  can't  talk  plain,"  he  said;  "her's  nothin'  but  a 
baby." 

The  tears  came  into  her  eyes,  but  her  lordly  brother 
ordered  her  to  "dry  up  and  cut  loose  in  a  dance."  So 
she  brushed  her  tears  away,  and,  beginning  a  little 
tune,  she  kept  step  to  it  very  accurately,  beating  time 
by  clapping  her  hands  together.  This  was  so  pretty 
and  graceful  that  even  Lloyd  applauded.  Then  Billy 
ordered  her  to  "come  on"  with  her  speeches.  The 
first  of  these  was  from  "Mother  Goose."  The  em- 
phasis with  which  she  delivered  it  was  quite  inimita- 
ble, and  only  a  feeble  attempt  at  its  expression  can  be 
conveyed  on  paper.  She  stepped  out  before  her 
audience  with  her  curly  head  well  up  and  her  whole 
bearing  proud  as  a  peacock  (I  know,  because  I  was 
watching,  together  with  Mrs.  Wilkes,  from  a  hole  in 
the  kitchen  where  the  "chinking"  was  badly  broken); 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  155 

then  she  began  with  her  exquisite  baby  lisp,  not  to  be 

rendered  in  type: 

uHokey  pokey,  hanky  panky, 

I'm  the  queen  of  Swinkey  Swankey, 

And  I'm  pretty  well  I  thank'ee." 

At  the  last  word  she  swept  them  a  courtesy  like  a 
real  queen,  and  retired  modestly  backward  waiting  for 
another  call. 

"Lloyd  did  not  approve  of  the  speech.  The  same 
criticism  with  which  he  condemned  the  song  was  in 
force  here.  But  the  dance  was  "bully"  he  said,  so  he 
thought  they  would  take  her.  Then  they  revealed 
their  plans.  They  had  three  dogs  and  a  pig,  and 
Sally,  and  were  starting  out  for  a  "show."  They  were 
going  to  work  their  way  to  New  York,  where  they  in- 
tended to  stop  and  live  in  a  house  with  gold  floors  and 
diamond  windows,  and  have  all  the  fine  things  they 
wanted,  and  go  riding  on  Shetland  ponies  every  day. 

It  was  now  getting  on  toward  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon,  and  they  declared  themselves  ready  to  start. 
At  this  juncture  Mrs.  Wilkes  thought  I  had  better  go 
out  and  urge  them  to  stay  until  after  dinner. 

But  no,  they  did  not  care  for  dinner;  they  had 
plenty  with  them,  and  when  that  gave  out  they  would 
have  a  show  and  buy  more. 


156  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

"Ah!  yes,"  said  I — having  been  primed  by  Mrs. 
Wilkes — "but  we  are  going  to  have  a  pie,  and  a  cake 
with  raisins  in  it  as  big  as  your  thumb.  What  do 
you  think  of  that?" 

Their  eyes  dilated.  "That's  bully,"  Lloyd  said.  So 
they  held  a  consultation  and  decided  to  wait  until 
after  dinner.  As  they  sat  on  the  wood  pile  pending 
that  pleasant  event,  the  time  seemed  interminable  to 
them;  and  it  was  a  very  long  hour,  indeed,  before  they 
were  called  in. 

After  dinner  the  sun  hung  so  low  in  the  west  they 
held  another  conference  about  starting,  the  result  of 
which  was  that  they  would  camp  out  in  a  broken- 
down  wagon  on  the  edge  of  town,  while  Sally  re- 
mained in  the  house  that  night,  where  they  could  call 
for  her  in  the  morning  and  take  an  early  start.  They 
had  a  long  walk  to  the  wagon,  and  when  they  got 
there  were  almost  surprised  and  deeply  injured  to  find 
no  sleeping  accommodations;  not  that  they  had  cal- 
culated on  sleeping  accommodations,  but  simply  that 
they  had  not  calculated  at  all — and  the  gas  was  be- 
ginning to  leak  out  of  their  inflated  ideal. 

After  a  little  thinking  they  stole  an  old  horse 
blanket  out  of  a  barn  not  far  away.  Then  they  re- 
membered their  three  dogs  and  one  pig  tied  up  with 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  157 

bale  rope  clear  out  on  the  other  side  of  the  village, 
and  it  came  into  their  heads  that  these  stock  actors 
might  be  hungry.  The  next  thing  in  order  was  to 
feed  them.  They  had  almost  reached  the  place  where 
they  had  left  them  when  they  happened  to  think  that 
they  had  brought  no  food.  Here  was  an  emergency. 
They  were  growing  discouraged.  It  was  getting  dark. 
In  a  dumb  way  they  were  beginning  to  realize  the 
total  depravity  of  inanimate  things.  Finally,  as  it 
must  be  done,  they  retraced  their  steps  to  get  the 
bread  and  meat  out  of  their  bundles. 

They  had  reached  the  growling  stage  of  fatigue, 
and  went  along  saying  naughty  words  such  as  "durn" 
and  "dogon,"  and  "I  golly,"  and  it  was  reported  that 
one  of  them  said  "damn,"  but  they  both  denied  this 
afterwards  to  their  mothers. 

"What  are  we  goin'  to  do  for  bread  now?"  asked 
Billy. 

"I  can  get  more  at  home,"  said  Lloyd. 

"It's  goin'  to  be  a  devil  of  a  trip,  this  is,"  said  Billy. 
"I'm  nearly  tired  to  death  now." 

But  they  trudged  on  and  got  their  provisions,  and 
returned  with  them  to  the  spot  where  their  hungry 
dependents  had  been  stationed.  Here  they  were  sur- 
prised  and   disgusted   to  find   the  dogs   gone.     The 


158  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

renegades  had  not  had  the  charity  to  liberate  their 
cousin  in  bonds,  for  he  was  still  there  sitting  back  on 
his  tether  with  the  obstinacy  of  a — of  a  pig.  That 
there  was  blood  on  the  moon  for  him  that  night  was 
betrayed  by  the  wicked  expression  of  his  eye.  Still  he 
did  not  refuse  the  food;  ho  ate  it  to  the  last  bite,  and 
then  watched  them  reproachfully  and  ungratefully. 

By  this  time  it  was  quite  dark,  and  they  had  a  good 
half  mile  to  travel  back  to  the  wagon.  They  now 
took  each  other  by  the  hand  for  protection  and  scam- 
pered rapidly  away. 

They  did  not  undress  that  night;  and  so  strong  is 
the  force  of  habit  they  did  not  know  how  to  go  to  bed 
without  undressing,  especially  as  they  had  no  bed  to 
go  to.  Even  after  they  were  in  the  wagon  they  could 
not  sleep,  but  lay  staring  in  the  dark  for  many  hours, 
as  they  supposed. 

The  time — in  reality — was  not  so  long  as  they  im- 
agined. They  were  nervous  and  restless,  preternatu- 
rally  alive  to  every  sound  that  moved  the  leaves  and 
every  sigh  of  the  night  wind.  But  after  a  while  as 
they  listened  in  this  state  of  intensity,  they  heard  an 
unmistakable  groan  under  the  wagon.  With  a  simul- 
taneous movement  they  popped  the  blanket  over  their 
heads  where  they  had  to  hold  it  by  main  force,  so 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  159 

great  was  the  capillary  attraction  that  impelled  it  up- 
wards; and  then  they  heard  another  groan.  This  time 
it  was  simply  awful.  It  began  with  the  true  grave- 
yard sound,  but  was  worse  and  more  of  it,  ending  in 
a  double  demi-semi-quaver  of  explosive  volume  that 
might  have  resembled  the  bursting  of  a  long  with- 
held laugh  but  for  the  horror  of  it.  Anything  so 
demoniacal  was  never  heard  in  that  town  before.  It 
almost  shook  the  planks  in  the  bottom  of  their  bed 
room,  and  tore  its  way  up  through  the  cracks;  the 
blanket  over  them  gave  them  an  idea  that  they  were 
bottled  in  with  this  ghastly  terror.  This  was  not  to 
be  endured  for  an  instant;  and  so,  with  another  simul- 
taneous impulse,  or,  to  avoid  tautology,  let  us  say  with 
two  impulses  that  were  Siamese  twins  in  their  kin- 
ship, they  sprang  over  the  side  of  the  wagon  and  ran 
for  their  lives. 

There  was  no  holding  each  other  now.  It  was 
"every  fellow  for  himself,  and  the  devil  take  the  hind- 
most.1' Billy  was  ahead.  Lloyd's  roars  were  unheeded, 
and  gradually  died  out  in  the  distance.  He  said,  later 
in  life,  that  one  of  his  legs  fainted  and  left  him  noth- 
ing to  travel  on  but  the  other  leg  and  his  head,  with 
a  little  assistance  from  his  elbows,  which  were  in  a 
half  fainting  condition  also.      He  never  could  recall 


160  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

where  his  hands  were.  When  he  reached  home  he 
found  us  still  up.  His  appearance  among  us  was 
decidedly  tumultuous.  He  took  his  seat  quietly,  and 
to  the  questions,  "What  you  been  doin'  Lloyd?  What 
makes  you  look  so  pale?"  he  answered  but  one  word. 

"NothinV 

The  next  morning  when  Sally  opened  her  blue  eyes 
(so  Mrs.  Wilkes  reported)  she  screamed  lustily  for 
that  mighty  man  Billy.  When  he  came  she  informed 
him  that  she  was  ready  to  start;  and  great  was  her 
wonder  when  he  told  her  to  "shut  up  and  not  bother 
him  about  such  nonsense  any  more.11 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE   STORY   OF   TEN   LITTLE   HATS. 

How  the  Daltons  disappeared  from  my  life  I  cannot 
tell.  It  seems  strange  that  we  can  remember  things 
so  perfectly  up  to  a  certain  point,  and  then  absolute 
darkness  rest  upon  the  remainder. 

I  have  an  idea  that  they  never  returned  from 
Louisville  after  the  doctor's  father  sent  for  them. 
But  fate  kept  weaving  and  weaving  and  weaving  for 
all  of  us,  and  I  met  them  again  many  years  after  in 
California.  But  they  no  longer  awakened  the  interest 
in  me  they  had  done  in  my  childhood.  The  doctor 
had  taken  to  drink.  Mrs.  Dalton  had  a  heart-broken 
look,  and  seemed  as  helpless  as  a  baby  in  her  own 
house,  keeping  it  dirty  and  wretched  beyond  descrip- 
tion. Charley  had  passed  from  the  extreme  of 
wearing  no  clothes  to  the  other  extreme  of  wearing 
very  fine  ones.  But  I  have  nothing  to  say  against 
Charley.  He  was  the  best  electrician  in  the  state, 
and  was  employed  at  a  splendid  salary.  He  supported 
the   family;  but   what   a  family   it   was  to  support! 

161 


162  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

The  money  he  gave  them  was  like  water  poured  in  a 
rat  hole.     It  made  no  show  whatever. 

The  doctor  died  of  drink.  Mrs.  Dalton  told  me  she 
had  nothing  to  live  for  but  Charley.  In  less  than  a 
year  Charley  died.  After  this  I  dreaded  to  meet  her, 
but  I  did  meet  her.  She  made  no  sign  of  grief  as  I 
had  feared.  Her  face  was  as  impassive  as  stone,  and 
as  gray.  The  poor  little  thing  was  really  dead  then. 
One  morning  she  did  not  get  up.  It  was  all  over 
except  the  burial,  which  followed  immediately. 

What  a  comment  on  life  in  its  present  stage  of 
development  the  history  of  this  gifted  creature  is! 
How  lovely  it  would  have  been  if  I  could  have  held 
her  for  an  indefinite  period  in  all  the  charm  of  her 
early  womanhood  as  she  appeared  to  me  then !  The 
evanescence  of  these  sweet,  bright  lives  is  the  most 
pitiful  thing  I  know.  It  was  sorrows  like  this  that 
started  me  to  thinking  of  possibilities  far  beyond  the 
ordinary  thoughts  of  the  age  and  race.  Of  these 
thoughts  I  shall  speak  later. 

As  this  personal  narrative  unwinds  itself  I  feel  like 
loitering.  I  see  that  I  am  being  carried  out  of  the 
region,  and  beyond  the  experiences  of  childhood,  and 
I  do  not  like  it.  There  is  so  much  in  the  child — to 
one   who  has   anything  like   a  (true   conception    of 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  163 

him — that  to  pass  out  of  the  circle  of  his  life  into  the 
arid  zone  of  manhood,  which  is  the  grave  rather  than 
the  fruitage  of  his  early  possibilities,  is  like  abandon- 
ing a  mine  in  which  lies  concealed  the  never-to-be- 
revealed  wealth  that  might  redeem  a  whole  world. 

Children  are  so  wonderful  in  their  simple  natural- 
ness. It  seems  as  if  the  growing  power  of  the 
earth — that  power  which  produces  flowers  and  fruit 
and  all  life  and  beauty  out  of  hidden  depths — is  in 
them,  and  speaks  through  them  in  all  their  little 
sweet,  innocent  ways. 

To  leave  home  with  a  circus — if  I  remember  cor- 
rectly— was  Lloyd's  last  effort  to  break  from  parental 
authority.  All  of  these  attempts  occurred  within  quite 
a  short  space  of  time.  I  think  the  whole  series  did 
not  occupy  more  than  a  year  or  two.  But  there  is  one 
of  them  that  I  have  omitted  to  tell  about.  I  think 
it  came  in  just  after  the  failure  of  the  young  man's 
circus  business,  in  which  Sally  was  to  star  it  over  the 
country  as  the  chief  attraction.  It  was  an  effort  that 
might  have  proved  disastrous,  but  did  not,  in  con- 
sequence of  that  ubiquitous  law  which  seems  to  exist 
solely  for  the  benefit  of  such  youngsters.  Having 
evolved  his  plan,  he  kept  quiet  about  it  until  circum- 
stances favored  him  in  executing  it.     One  Saturday 


164  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

when  the  town  was  full  of  half-drunken  men,  and 
great  excitement  prevailed,  his  time  came.  He  saw  a 
mettlesome,  high-spirited  horse,  all  equipped  for 
riding,  tied  to  a  neighboring  fence. 

"I'll  get  on  it  and  ride  it  to  New  York  right  off 
when  nobody  aint  a  lookin';  cos  what's  the  use  of 
waitin'?"  he  said. 

And  he  did  get  on.  However,  things  did  not  work 
as  he  planned. 

Mother  was  ironing.  Lloyd  came  in,  climbed  up 
on  the  far  corner  of  the  table  and  sat  very  still  indeed. 
Presently  his  quietness  attracted  her  attention.  Quiet- 
ness in  boys  is  very  apt  to  arouse  parental  anxiety. 

"What's  the  matter?"  mother  asked. 

"NothinV" 

uAre  you  sick?1' 

"No'm." 

"What  makes  you  so  pale?" 

"NothinV1 

"Do  you  want  a  piece  of  cake?" 

"No — yes,  if  it's  got  raisins  in  it." 

The  cake  was  produced,  but  his  appetite  was  not  so 
sharp  as  usual. 

"What  have  you  been  up  to?"  asked  mother. 

"Nothin'." 

"Where  have  you  been?" 

"Nowhere." 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  165 

"I'll  bet  a  thousand  dollars  you've  been  hatching 
mischief,  if  a  body  could  only  find  it  out.  Tell  me, 
now,  haven't  you?" 

"Haven't  I  what?" 

"What  have  you  been  doing?" 

"NothinV 

"Tell  me  immediately  where  you  have  been." 

"Aint  been  nowhere." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  tumult  on  the  front 
porch.  Two  or  three  men  rushed  in.  "Where's 
Lloyd?"  they  cried  in  a  breath. 

Then  they  saw  him  and  explained.  He  had  climbed 
on  one  of  the  most  dangerous  horses  in  the  county, 
they  said,  and  it  had  run  off  with  him,  kicking  and 
plunging  awfully.  Several  men  had  mounted  other 
horses  standing  around  and  given  chase.  They  had 
overtaken  the  horse  and  brought  it  back,  but  could 
find  no  trace  of  Lloyd.  Half  the  town  was  out  now 
looking  for  his  remains,  and  the  greatest  consternation 
prevailed. 

"Where  did  he  throw  you,  Lloyd?"  was  asked. 

"Who  throw  me?"  said  Lloyd. 

"The  horse;  where  did  the  horse  throw  you?" 

"Wot  horse?" 

"The  horse  you  got  on  round  by  Dingley's  saloon." 

"Didn't  get  on  no  horse." 


166  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

"You  must  be  mistaken,"  said  mother  to  the  men. 

uIs  it  possible  that  it  was  some  other  boy?"  queried 
one. 

Lloyd  munched  his  cake  silently.  More  people 
were  coming.  All  of  them  questioned  him.  Many 
went  away  doubting;  others  felt  certain  their  eyes 
had  not  deceived  them.  Pretty  soon  the  schoolmaster 
arrived.  He  was  deeply  versed  in  the  hidden  ways  of 
boys.  A  life  time  spent  in  ferreting  out  the  crooked 
paths  and  dark  mysteries  of  this  labyrinthine  institu- 
tion, aided  by  recollections  of  his  own  boyhood,  had 
made  him  almost  omniscient  with  regard  to  them.  He 
asked  no  questions.  He  walked  about  the  floor  talk- 
ing to  mother  on  all  manner  of  subjects  except  the 
subject.  Lloyd  began  to  feel  neglected.  At  last  the 
subject  under  discussion  was  horsemanship.  The 
schoolmaster  it  seemed  was  a  good  rider;  had  per- 
formed wonderful  equestrian  feats  in  his  boyhood  and 
passed  many  a  hair-breadth  escape. 

"Thinks  he's  the  only  feller  in  the  world  that  dares 
ride,"  thought  Lloyd. 

"Now,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  "the  boy  that  rode 
that  horse  to-day  knew  nothing  at  all  of  the  science 
of  riding.  To  be  sure,  I  didn't  see  him  as  he  rode 
through    the    town,   but   I   am    informed    on    good 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  167 

authority  that  he  was  actually  frightened  almost  to 
death,  so  that  his  hair  stood  on  end." 

Lloyd  raised  one  little  paw  and  smoothed  his  hair 
down. 

"And  his  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth." 

Lloyd  put  out  his  tongue  and  felt  it. 

"And  that,  instead  of  pulling  on  the  reins  as  a 
brave  boy  would,  he  dropped  them  and  clung  to  the 
horn  of  the  saddle  like  grim  death.  I  wonder  if  that 
could  be  possible;  if  the  boy  did  actually  drop  the 
reins  like  a  coward,  and — 

"No,"  said  Lloyd,  "you  can  bet  your  last  quarter 
that's  a  lie.  I  pulled  on  him  hard  enough  to  break 
his  durned  neck,  and  he  wouldn't  stop." 

Mother  looked  at  the  school  teacher,  and  he  looked 
at  her;  then  they  both  looked  at  Lloyd.  He  sat  on 
one  corner  of  the  table  with  his  knees  drawn  up  and 
his  hands  clasped  around  them.  He  might  have  been 
covered  with  a  good  sized  water  bucket,  and  there  he 
was  saying,  "I  pulled  on  him  hard  enough  to  break 
his  durned  neck,  and  he  wouldn't  stop." 

It  was  too  comical.  Mother  laughed  one  of  her 
most  meaning  laughs;  the  teacher's  dry  chuckle  made 
strange  contrast  with  its  musicalness.  Everybody  in 
the   room   laughed.      "Oh!   if   his  father    was   only 


168  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

here,1'  said  mother;  "what  would  I  give  if  Caleb  could 
see  him  now?1' 

uDid  the  horse  know  you  was  on  him,  Lloyd?" 
asked  Ivens. 

"If  he  didn't  know  more  than  you  do,  he  didn't 
know  nothin',"  was  the  brotherly  rejoinder. 

What  unflagging  pertinacity  these  young  folks 
have.  Parents  may  resolve  and  re-resolve;  but  they 
only  resolve  once;  they  hang  unchanging  to  the  same 
resolution  while  dynasties  vanish  and  systems  wax 
and  wane — so  to  speak;  they  never  let  up;  the 
mother's  resistance  wears  threadbare  in  places;  they 
perceive  the  weakening,  and  with  that  vitality  which 
knows  no  need  of  rest  they  walk  in  and  have  their 
own  way  at  last. 

Nine  times  out  of  ten  the  mother  has  this  almost 
ungovernable  vital  force  to  contend  with  entirely  un- 
aided by  the  father  of  the  flock,  and  she  breaks  down 
under  it.  This  was  the  case  with  us,  and  I  have 
observed  the  same  thing  in  other  families.  Men 
refuse  to  share  this  responsibility  with  their  wives, 
and  they  in  turn  become  the  victims  of  the  perpetual 
and  undirected  force  of  the  children.  Here  is  an 
experience  illustrative  of  the  fact. 

Scene  in  front  of  a  neat   cottage.      A   gentleman 


A   8EARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  169 

comes  through  the  gate.  A  very  small  person  slips 
out  under  his  arm,  and  they  stand  face  to  face  on  the 
sidewalk.  Gentleman  glances  weakly  towards  the 
house,  and  calls,  "Mamma!" 

There  is  the  flutter  of  a  white  frock  on  the  porch, 
and  a  voice  from  behind  the  vines. 

"Well,  what  now?" 

"Tootsie's  got  out/' 

Concealed  voice — u0h !  come  off  with  your  helpless- 
ness; why  don't  you  put  her  back?" 

Weak-kneed  Papa — "Go  back  in  the  house,  Tootsie, 
and  Til  bring  you  some  candy." 

Tootsie— "Me  yont  do  it." 

W.  K.  P.— "Where  you  going?" 

Tootsie — "Me  doin1  wiz  oo." 

W.  K.  P. — "But  I'm  going  down  town  on  the  car." 

Tootsie— "I  doin1  on  ee  tar  too." 

W.  K.  P.:  (In  a  quavering  voice.)  "Mamma!" 
(A  little  stronger.)  "Oh,  Ma!  My  God!  what  shall  I 
do?  Kate!  Kate!  I  wish  I  may  never  tell  the  truth 
again  if  she  hasn't  gone  in  and  shut  the  door.  Well, 
blankety-blank  the  pertinacity  of  a  baby  anyhow! 
See  here,  Toots,  I'll  tell  you  what;  you  can  come  with 
me  as  far  as  the  green  trees,  and  then  you  can  run 
home  again,  and  papa'll  go  down  town." 


170  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

Tootsie — uMe  aint  doin'  to  do  it.  Me's  doiii'  down 
town  too." 

W.  K.  P. — (Another  hope  of  rescue  animating  his 
soul,  casts  his  eyes  towards  the  rear  of  the  house  and 
sees  a  servant;  straightens  himself  up  into  his  most 
commanding  attitude,  and  gives  directions  for  carry- 
ing the  rebel  in  doors.) 

In  the  anarchistic  melee  that  ensues  he  makes  his 
escape,  but  without  one  thought  as  to  how  the  vitality 
of  this  pretty  little  creature  can  be  directed  into  ways 
that  will  make  a  heaven  of  the  home  where  it  abides, 
and  whose  beneficence  will  reach  so  far  beyond  the 
home  as  to  become  a  special  guard  against  the  poverty 
and  distress  that  assail  so  many  families  in  whom 
this  mighty  power  is  suffered  to  go  to  waste,  or,  worse 
still,  to  become  a  destructive  element  to  itself  and 
others. 

Much  thought  on  this  subject  has  led  me  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  are  scarcely  any  parents  who 
have  sense  enough  to  raise  their  own  children.  More- 
over, the  system  of  -isolated  households  is  not 
conducive  to  the  highest  development  of  these  gifted 
little  creatures,  who  possess  along  with  their  brains 
the  natural  push,  the  inherent  vitality,  to  lift  this  old 
world  out  of  the  ruts  of  dogmatic  thought,  in  which 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  171 

it  has  been  stranded  for  ages,  and  send  it  spinning  in- 
to a  perfect  wonderland  of  new  and  great  ideas  and 
hopes,  all  capable  of  being  harnessed  to  the  practical 
needs  of  our  coming  humanity. 

But  where  are  Billy  Wilkes  and  Sally  and  Lloyd? 

Am  I  too  old  to  write  the  history  of  these  bright 
young  creatures?  Really  it  seems  so  since  I  have 
survived  the  best  of  them.  But  Billy  still  lives.  He 
is  a  rich  man  and  a  hard  one.  He  scarcely  allowed 
his  faithful  mother  enough  to  gratify  her  hunger  in 
her  lonely  old  age.  He  turned  his  back  on  Sally  all 
through  the  years  of  her  greatest  need.  1  do  not 
know  whether  he  is  a  happy  man  or  not,  for  I  cannot 
tell  what  conditions  a  man  of  his  character  requires 
for  happiness. 

Sally's  lot  was  the  lot  of  many  another  woman. 
She  married  and  brought  children  into  the  world  and 
lived  in  anxiety,  pain  and  poverty,  unappreciated  and 
mentally  alone.  For  she  was  a  gifted  girl  who,  as  a 
crushed  wife,  found  no  outlet  for  the  best  part  of  her. 
She  was  a  body  slave  to  her  husband — day  and 
night — a  man  never  worthy  of  even  blacking  her 
boots.  She  clung  to  life  for  her  children  alone,  and 
died  when  they  seemed  to  need  her  most. 

But  Lloyd.     I  was  in  California  when  he  wrote  me 


172  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

that  he  had  joined  the  army.  The  news  almost  took 
the  breath  out  of  me;  for  I  am  not  a  sufficiently  loyal 
citizen  to  gird  the  sword  to  the  bodies  of  my  loved 
ones,  as  the  Spartan  mothers  did,  and  bid  them  go 
forth  to  conquest.  I  looked  upon  war  as  legalized 
murder,  and  thought  that  those  who  believed  in  it 
ought  to  do  the  fighting.  I  was  not  then,  and  am 
not  now,  actuated  by  any  false  ideas  of  glory  as  con- 
nected with  the  matter.  I  wrote  the  boy — just 
verging  into  promising  and  beautiful  manhood — to 
get  out  of  it  as  soon  as  he  could.  Months  passed  and 
I  heard  nothing.  I  never  heard  form  him  again  ex- 
cept indirectly.  He  was  one  of  the  victims  of  the 
Fort  Andersonville  horror.  It  was  there  that  his 
magnificent  young  life  perished  inch  by  inch  under 
the  unspeakable  cruelty  of  the  system  of  starvation 
practiced  upon  the  Northern  soldiers  by  their  Southern 
captors. 

The  lady  who  reads  these  chapters  in  proof,  before 
they  are  made  into  plates  for  electrotyping,  has  a 
little  daughter;  and  this  daughter  has  little  friends, 
all  of  whom  want  to  hear  every  word  of  "A  Search 
for  Freedom."  When  the  proof  sheets  come  from 
Boston  there  is  quite  a  ripple  of  excitement.  They 
really  think  I  am  writing  a  child's  story. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  173 

But  it  hurts  them  fearfully  when  one  of  my 
characters  dies.  That  the  death  of  Lloyd  and  Sally 
should  be  allowed  to  finish  a  chapter  was  more  than 
they  could  bear.  They  think  I  ought  to  tell  the 
story  of  the  "Ten  little  hats11  right  here  in  this  place 
to  make  my  readers  "so's  theyUl  quit  feeling  bad  be- 
fore they  lay  down  the  paper.11  There  is  nothing  in 
this  story  of  the  hats;  and  I  have  no  idea  that  it  will 
appear  as  well  in  print  as  when  I  do  it  in  pantomime 
for  the  small  utousle  pates11  who  are  now  putting 
their  compulsion  on  me.     But  here  it  is: 

Not  long  ago  I  attended  a  Chautauqua  in  the 
delusive  hope  of  learning  something.  I  had  not  then 
found  out  that  these  places  were  run  in  the  interests 
of  religion.  I  was  finding  it  out,  however,  pretty  fast. 
I  was  on  an  elevated  seat  overlooking  the  ground 
floor,  on  which  was  grouped  a  number  of  splint 
bottomed  chairs,  placed  there  probably  for  the  con- 
venience of  the  deaf  and  old  and  otherwise  decrepit 
part  of  the  population.  I  was  waiting  for  the  lecture 
to  begin.  My  hopes  concerning  the  lecture  were  not 
enthusiastic  since  discovering  that  the  whole  affair 
was  conducted  on  the  principle  of  a  grown  up  Sun- 
day school;  for  if  there  was  anything  on  earth  I  was 
born  hating,  and  had  been  true  to  my  feelings  for  it 


174  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

first,  last  and  all  the  time,  it  was  that  institution. 
As  I  sat  there  waiting  I  let  my  mind  run  back  in 
the  past  until  it  came  among  the  days  whose  happi- 
ness— though  not  unalloyed — was  never  very  bitterly 
broken  except  by  the  advent  of  the  Seventh  Day.  I 
thought  of  aunt  Sally  and  her  slipper;  and  of  Brother 
Findlay  and  his  "sermings,"  and  of  all  the  boys  and 
girls  whose  presence  made  that  period  more  vitally 
alive  than  any  later  period  of  my  life.  It  is  the  alive- 
ness  of  children  that  causes  us  to  look  back  to  child- 
hood as  the  happiest  time,  and  not  really  the  happiness 
of  it. 

By  the  time  I  had  come  this  far  in  my  cogitations 
the  drone  of  the  speaker's  voice  broke  in  on  me.  It 
was  a  preacher.  I  did  not  need  to  look  up  and  see; 
and  as  for  listening,  I  felt  sure  I  could  find  some 
better  method  of  amusement.  I  had  come  to  listen 
to  a  scientific  lecture,  and  here  I  was;  fooled  again. 

The  seats  in  the  meantime  had  been  filling  up 
somewhat,  and  ten  little  girls,  children  of  campers  on 
the  Chautauqua  grounds,  came  filing  in.  I  had 
passed  a  crowd  of  them  when  I  entered  the  pavilion, 
and  now  they  had  come  to  hear  the  lecture.  They 
were  from  four  to  seven  years  old;  they  all  had  on 
broad-brimmed  sun  hats,  and  as  they  passed  by  the 


A-  SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  175 

benches  and  took  seats  in  the  splint  chairs  I  could 
not  see  their  faces,  and  not  much  of  their  forms; 
about  all  I  saw  was  their  hats. 

Ten  little  girls  all  in  a  row;  ten  pair  of  heels 
hitched  upon  the  rungs  of  ten  chairs;  ten  intelligent 
looking  hats  tilted  at  an  angle  which  proved  that 
they  were  taking  a  critical  survey  of  the  preacher. 

Those  expressive  ten  hats  were  evidently  gauging 
him  to  see  if  there  was  anything  in  him  likely  to  "pan 
out"  for  their  entertainment. 

Something  took  my  attention  away  from  them  for 
a  short  time,  and  when  I  looked  again  they  had 
shifted  their  position  by  bringing  the  chairs  into  a 
circle,  and  the  hats  were  tipped  down  in  front  as 
if  the  owners  were  contemplating  the  toes  of  their 
pretty  shoes. 

Presently  one  hat  quivered,  and  came  to  a  level; 
then  nine  other  hats  came  to  the  same  level,  and  I 
knew  that  ten  pair  of  bright  eyes  were  looking  into 
each  other,  though  I  could  not  see  them. 

Again  my  attention  wandered;  when  I  got  round  to 
the  hats  once  more,  after  an  absence  of  only  a  few 
minutes,  they  were  all  huddled  together,  and  there 
was  little  to  be  seen  except  the  backs  and  almost 
emptied  seats  of  the  ten  splint  chairs.     Some  evidently 


176  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

profound  caucus  was  in  active  progress  under  the  hats, 
as  I  knew  by  the  more  than  auricular  movement  of 
the  broad  brims. 

For  the  brims  dipped  and  came  up  again  in  a 
manner  so  positive  as  to  defy  opposition;  then  they 
quivered — with  emotion  probably;  and  pretty  soon 
one  of  them,  the  leading  hat,  perhaps,  rocked  from 
side  to  side  as  if  it  had  put  in  a  clincher  that  no  other 
hat  could  stand  up  against. 

Some  of  the  hats  giggled;  it  is  a  positive  fact.  To 
use  our  expressive  Yankee  dialect,  they  "snickered 
right  eout."  Not  that  they  made  any  noise;  they  did 
not;  and  yet  they  laughed  violently.  I  saw  them  do 
it  with  my  own  eyes.  Besides  that,  laughing  is  catch- 
ing, and  a  row  of  older  hats  not  far  away  caught  it. 

And  worse  still,  while  some  of  my  neighbors  were 
aghast  at  the  awfulness  of  this  performance,  and 
wondering  where  these  dreadful  children  would  go  to 
when  they  died,  I  saw  one  hat  tumble  back  con- 
vulsively while  a  small  pair  of  feet  appeared  among 
the  conclave  of  remaining  hats,  where  they  gyrated 
wildly. 

Here  the  preacher  paused  ominously,  and  took  a 
steady  look  at  the  hats;  upon  which  they  instantly 
got  back  to  their  second  position.     Then  he  went  on 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  177 

with  his  discourse,  whereat  the  hats  became  agitated, 
and  after  a  few  minutes  fell  into  a  hurried  consulta- 
tion from  which  they  seemed  to  derive  the  satisfaction 
they  were  seeking. 

At  last  it  became  apparent  that  they  had  forgotten 
the  preacher,  and  from  their  wise  noddings  and  shak- 
ings, I  felt  sure  they  were  discussing  previous 
experiences  of  similar  hair-breadth  escapes. 

As  the  subject  of  hair-breadth  escapes  is  in  the 
direct  road  leading  to  fearful  stories  of  spooks  and 
hobgoblins  and  squeegicumsquees  "wot  swallers  their- 
selves,"  I  am  sure  it  did  so  in  this  instance  with  the 
hats.  For  the  hats  trembled  at  times,  and  then  be- 
came deadly  still;  occasionally  one  of  them  would 
whisk  round  spasmodically  as  if  to  see  what  was 
behind  it;  and  then  every  one  of  the  other  hats  would 
do  the  same  thing. 

And  all  the  time  the  hats  were  getting  closer  to- 
gether. They  got  so  close  presently  that  they  began 
to  impede  each  other's  movements.  In  this  way  they 
became  less  expressive  so  that  I  lost  much  of  the 
horror  of  the  tales  they  were  telling. 

But  I  saw  enough  to  give  me  a  better  idea  of  the 
character  of  hats  than  I  had  ever  had  before.  It  was 
the  first  time  I  really  knew  what  a  hat  was.     I  had 


178  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

imagined  it  made  of  straw  and  other  dead  stuff.  I  did 
not  know  that  the  girls  who  made  hats  sewed  their 
own  fears  and  hopes  and  loves  and  wisdom — such 
wisdom  as  it  is — and  giggles  and  pouts  and  all  the 
other  attributes  that  go  to  make  up  a  girl,  into  them; 
but  they  do. 

As  I  observed,  some  pages  back,  I  am  loathe  to 
leave  the  region  of  childhood.  Children  are  such 
wonderful  beginnings  of  totally  perverted  endings. 
As  beginnings,  they  are  so  suggestive  of  what  they 
might  become,  but  which  none  of  them  have  become 
as  yet.  Looking  at  them  now  I  often  seem  to  enter 
into  their  little  lives  with  my  bigger  experience 
and — in  a  sense — to  live  for  them  on  wiser  lines  than 
they  know — as  yet — how  to  live. 

But  1  must  say,  and  very  emphatically  too,  that  it 
is  not  the  proper  thing  to  try  to  project  our  own  lives 
through  the  lives  of  children.  Hands  off;  they  are 
entitled  to  their  own  experiences.  True  knowledge  is 
self-evolved,  and  is  the  result  of  the  action  of  thought 
upon  the  mistakes  we  make.  Leave  the  children  in  a 
large  measure  to  their  own  mistakes.  Nothing  will 
teach  them  so  thoroughly.  Watch  them  carefully 
that  they  steer  clear  of  dangerous  folly,  but  otherwise 
leave   them  alone  as  much  as  possible.     Let  nature 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  179 

grow  through  them.  She  knows  how  to  do  it  better 
than  we  do.  She  has  power  to  develop  theravon  lines 
unknown  to  the  creed-warped  tribe  which  we  repre- 
sent. She  has  not  exhausted  her  resources  in  us.  On 
the  contrary,  we  are  only  the  first  faint  prophecy  of 
what  she  can  do  in  making  men  and  women,  if  left 
free. 

It  must  be  because  children  are  the  unadulterated 
germs  of  men  and  women,  that  I  love  to  watch  them 
so.  After  they  begin  to  enter  adulthood,  and  even 
before,  the  warping  process  commences;  and  as  time 
advances  the  original  plan  appears  to  be  forgotten. 
No  wonder  the  wise  man  said:  "Except  ye  become 
as  little  children  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven." 

The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  the  realm  of  growth. 
It  is  the  region  of  endless  progression.  Cease 
to  progress  and  death  sets  in  that  very  moment. 
Children  represent  on  the  unconscious  plane  the 
possibilities  wc  have  power  to  evolve  on  the  conscious 
or  intellectual  plane.  The  secret  of  their  fascination 
lies  in  this  fact.  They  are  the  immortal  Sphynx,  the 
understanding  of  which  means  the  conquest  of  all 
life's  ills  and  the  mastery  of  death  itself. 


CHAPTER  X. 


TWO    OFFERS    OF   MARRIAGE. 

I  sometimes  wonder  at  the  glamour  that  disguises 
marriage.  Young  girls  look  forward  to  it  as  the  end 
of  all  their  anxieties  and  the  beginning  of  eternal 
bliss.  And  yet  they  see  their  own  mothers — who  once 
believed  the  same  thing — sunken  into  the  very  depths 
of  drudgery  and  wretchedness,  often  without  a  loving 
word  from  their  husbands  from  year's  end  to  year's 
end.  And  even  these  mothers,  in  spite  of  their  ex- 
perience, are  still  under  the  same  delusion  with  regard 
to  their  daughters,  and  look  forward  with  what  little 
hope  they  have  left  to  marriage  as  the  ultimatum  of 
bliss  for  them.  I  can  only  account  for  this  seeming 
obtuseness  of  intelligence  on  one  hypothesis.  That 
is,  that  life  on  the  present  plane  is  simply  one  of 
promises  that  have  as  yet  reached  no  fulfillment.  It 
is  a  life  of  embryonic  happiness  not  developed  beyond 
the  prophetic  germinal  point. 

I  myself  am  beginning  to  be  happy;  and  this 
happiness  is  increasing  yearly;  but  it  is  a   result  of 

180 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  181 

the  higher  knowledge  which  the  study  of  the  latent 
forces  of  mind  is  bringing  me;  a  growing  perception 
of  man's  ability  to  master  his  environment  through 
the  unfoldment  of  native  thought.  I  can  look  back 
and  see  myself  when  I  was  submerged  in  the  old 
belittling  race  beliefs,  and  I  say  emphatically  that 
there  is  no  happiness  in  them;  nothing  but  the 
germinal  forecast  of  happiness.  They  form  a  period 
in  race  growth;  the  hopes  they  suggest — though 
utterly  delusive  on  the  plane  of  their  birth — still 
point  to  a  time  of  fulfillment  on  a  higher  plane. 

The  entire  past  has  simply  been  the  seed  bearing 
period;  the  period  when  children  are  begotten  to  keep 
the  world  populated  until  such  time  as  human  in- 
telligence has  reached  a  point  in  knowledge  where 
there  will  be  no  farther  need  of  child  bearing;  but 
where  the  vital  forces  that  now  produce  the  child  will 
.pass  up  to  a  higher  expression,  and  perpetuate  in- 
definitely the  lives  of  the  individuals  themselves. 

It  is  to  this  plane  that  thousands  of  the  foremost 
members  of  the  race  are  now  arising.  But  at  the 
time  I  am  writing  of,  this  idea  was  wrapped  in  almost 
absolute  darkness. 

It  is  true  that  in  looking  back  I  can  see  the 
premonitions   of   its   existence   in  myself.      But   my 


182  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

intellect — at  that  time — warped  out  of  all  semblance 
of  individuality — had  no  power  to  interpret  these 
premonitions;  and  so  I  permitted  myself  to  be  deluded 
by  the  universal  belief  in  marriage  as  the  panacea  of 
human  ills.  And  yet  I  did  not  believe  it.  I  simply 
shut  my  eyes  to  the  truths  I  knew  about  it,  and  hoped 
that  my  marriage  would  be  an  exception. 

The  race  of  splendid  "bachelor  girls"  was  not  born 
then,  or  I  should  have  been  among  them.  The  un- 
married women  of  my  acquaintance  were  a  helpless 
and  a  forlorn  set,  and  were  often  looked  upon  with 
contempt.  They  did  not  in  the  least  resemble  the 
brilliant,  cultured  and  charming  girls  who  now  avoid 
marriage  because  they  prefer  lives  of  independence, 
with  opportunities  of  self-culture,  to  the  fate  of  the 
generality  of  their  married  acquaintances. 

Marriage  as  it  has  existed  in  the  past,  and  to-day 
too  for  the  greater  part  of  humanity,  is  but  a  stepping 
stone  to  the  real,  the  true,  the  divine  marriage.  It  is 
a  step  in  evolution.  It  is  that  which  perpetuates  the 
race  until  it  shall  come  into  a  knowledge  of  the  higher 
marriage.  When  this  is  accomplished,  marriage  will 
indeed  bring  happiness. 

In  speaking  of  the  drudgery  of  wives  I  am  not 
making  a  reflection  on  husbands.     Marriage  is  slavery 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  183 

to  both  husband  and  wife  all  the  world  over,  with  only 
here  and  there  an  exception.  And  I  am  not  in- 
timating that  true  happiness  can  be  found  out  of 
marriage  under  existing  conditions;  but  rather  that 
there  is  no  real  happiness  on  the  animal  plane  of  life; 
and  say  what  you  will,  we  are  still  living  on  the 
animal  plane.  We  have  not  ascended  above  it  yet, 
though  some  of  us  are  beginning  to  know  that  there 
is  a  higher  plane,  and  we  are  striking  out  for  it  with 
all  the  energy  we  can  command. 

The  race  is  being  prepared  through  its  bitter  ex- 
periences for  the  higher  marriage  that  will  not  prove 
a  disappointment.  Even  now — almost  without  know- 
ing the  meaning  of  what  it  does — it  is  using  every 
device  to  escape  the  entanglements  and  the  drudgery 
of  parenthood. 

I  hear  a  thousand  voices  exclaiming,  "Oh!  but  I 
love  children."  Of  course  you  do;  the  love  of  the 
child  is  but  a  projection  of  self-love.  Your  child  is 
the  latest  and  most  vital  part  of  yourself;  how  can 
you  help  loving  it? 

Again  I  hear  you  say,  "But  the  mother  love  is  a 
divine  thing."  To  which  I  reply  that  self-love  is  a 
divine  thing  too;  and  that  it  is  the  redemptive  power 
in  the  human  being.     Self-love  is  the  germinal  point 


184  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

in  the  man;  it  is  the  centralizing  factor  about  which 
all  that  is  related  to  him  through  his  desires  comes  to 
him.  But  to  express  this  self-love  in  the  being  of 
another  creature  is  so  much  waste  of  the  parents;  it 
is  diffusiveness;  it  is  the  opposite  of  concentration;  it 
is  the  beginning  of  that  self-loss  which  leads  to  dis- 
ease and  ends  in  death. 

In  saying  this  I  am  not  trying  to  make  the  im- 
pression that  in  the  higher  marriage  there  will  be  no 
sex  interchange.  There  will  still  be  sex  interchange; 
but  under  the  control  of  the  intellect  it  will  not  result 
in  creation  on  the  animal  plane.  Man  in  his  growth 
becomes  more  and  more,  and  not  less  in  any  particular- 
He  looses  no  use  that  he  has  acquired  in  his  process 
of  evolution;  and  those  uses  are  the  highest  which 
contribute  most  to  the  expression  of  his  happiness. 
The  sex  relation  will  never  be  disused,  but  it  is  even 
now  in  process  of  evolving  to  a  higher  use  than  the 
mere  begetting  of  children — namely — the  quickening 
into  active  life  of  a  world  of  vital  intelligence,  so 
high  and  fine  and  potent  that  we  may  not  now  even 
guess  its  power. 

It  was  my  fate  to  go  through  the  ordinary  animal 
marriage.  It  was  a  dreadful  experience,  but  I  needed 
it,  and  I  do  not  regret  it.     If  I  had  not  passed  through 


A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  185 

it  I  should  have  missed  the  foundation  for  the  most 
valuable  knowledge  I  have  acquired.  But  of  this 
marriage  I  will  not  speak  yet. 

As  I  approached  womanhood  my  girl  friends  were 
often  talking  to  me  about  their  lovers.  It  seemed  as 
though  they  were  always  in  love  with  some  one,  or 
some  one  was  always  in  love  with  them.  The  matter 
perplexed  me.  I  really  did  not  know  what  it  meant; 
but  it  did  seem  a  most  desirable  condition  to  be  in.  *  I 
thought  of  it  a  good  deal  as  I  had  thought  of  the 
chills  and  fever,  and  longed  for  an  attack  of  it. 

I  had  two  offers  of  marriage  before  I  was  fourteen, 
which  I  did  not  think  worth  considering.  The  first 
one  came  when  I  was  scarcely  more  than  twelve. 
Here  now  I  have  a  granddaughter  just  twelve  years 
old  who  seems  like  a  baby  to  me;  but  I  did  not  seem 
at  all  like  a  baby  to  myself  at  that  age;  and  indeed  I 
had  achieved  my  full  height,  and  weighed  precisely 
one  hundred  and  fifty-one  pounds.  I  was  weighed  on 
my  twelfth  birthday  in  the  same  room  and  at  the 
same  time  with  a  little,  old,  "pussy"  farmer  from  the 
country  named  Ham  Crumbley.  He  was  all  stomach 
with  spindle  legs  and  a  bald  head.  We  weighed  in 
the  same  notch  exactly,  which  gave  me  the  impression 
that  1  looked  like  him,  or  was  intangibly  connected 


186  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

with  him  in  a  manner  dreadful  to  think  about.  No 
previous  event  of  my  experience  humiliated  me  so 
much  since  aunt  Clem  found  the  resemblance  between 
old  Johnny  Young  and  me  at  the  fitting  of  my  first 
pair  of  drawers. 

Jim  Whitney  was  not  of  uour  set,"  though  probably 
he  did  not  know  it.  It  is  altogether  more  probable  he 
thought  there  could  be  no  set  so  exclusive  as  not  to 
include  him;  but  we  knew  it;  we  were  quite  sure  he 
did  not  belong  to  the  Fairfield  ufour  hundred." 
Jim — besides  having  a  tow  head,  that  we  made  fun  of 
unmercifully — had  the  ubig  head"  also.  His  opinion 
of  himself  was  the  most  colossal  psychological  struct- 
ure ever  built  on  so  frail  a  foundation.  It  was 
amusing,  when  it  was  not  aggravating,  to  hear  him 
tell  of  the  number  of  girls  in  love  with  him,  and 
gravely  ask  advice  as  to  which  one  he  had  better 
marry.  He  was  the  uorneriest"  looking  man  in 
town,  so  aunt  Sally  Linthecum  said,  and  1  think  she 
might  have  said  the  state,  and  still  have  been  within 
bounds.  She  did  not  see  how  he  could  live  in  the 
same  house  with  himself,  and  not  just  give  right 
up  and  die  of  disgust.  And  yet  he  "actilly,  actilly" 
thought  himself  a  "poragon,"  he  was  that  "pompeyed" 
in  his  own  opinion. 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  187 

Jim  dressed  better  than  most  of  our  town  boys;  but 
he  was  little  and  insignificant  looking,  with  a  face 
that  resembled  the  blossom  end  of  a  cocoanut  more 
than  anything  else.  I  never  dreamed  of  being  the 
favored  one  of  his  affections  until  one  Sunday  he 
called  at  our  house  arrayed  more  gorgeously  than  I 
had  ever  seen  him.  Mother  was  present,  but  after  a 
few  minutes  she  excused  herself  and  left  us  alone. 
She  had  not  got  fairly  out  of  the  room  when  all  in  a 
second  I  knew  Jim's  business;  and  I  knew  that  mother 
knew;  and  I  knew  perfectly  well  that  she  was  on  the 
other  side  of  the  parlor  door  listening  and  choking 
her  laugh  down.  All  this  I  knew  without  knowing; 
and  I  actually  believe  I  broke  out*all  over  with  prickly 
heat,  so  fearful  was  the  rush  of  blood  to  the  surface 
of  my  body,  and  so  instantaneous  was  the  panic  that 
seized  me.  It  was  another  case  of  Sister  Martha.  I 
had  not  in  the  least  regained  possession  of  myself 
when  I  saw  him  on  his  knees  before  me  repeating 
something  he  had  either  composed  beforehand  or  com- 
mitted to  memory  out  of  a  dime  novel.  I  can  only 
recall — "Oh,  thou  most  seraphic,  angelic  being!  Thou 
art  the  sun  of  my  existence  towards  which  my  soul 
turns  as  the  needle  to  the  pole.  Thou  most  beauti- 
ful—"    *    *    * 


188  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

At  this  juncture  be  stopped  suddenly,  and  not 
without  good  cause.  If  this  little  twelve-year-old 
grandchild  of  mine  should  do  what  I  did  then  it 
would  not  surprise  me  at  all;  but  to  think  that  I  did 
it  seems  actually  an  improbable  thing.  What  I  did 
was  to  jump  into  his  tow  hair  with  both  hands  and 
make  it  fly  like  pollen  from  a  dandelion  seed  pod.  I 
snatched  it  out  with  such  vicious  rapidity  that  he 
could  scarcely  scramble  to  his  feet.  But  he  did  get 
up  after  a  few  seconds  and  rush  into  the  street  bare- 
headed; then  he  rushed  back  and  seized  his  hat,  and 
out  he  dashed  again  looking  as  wild  as  a  hawk.  I  do 
not  think  he  heard  what  I  had  been  listening  to  for 
some  seconds — the  illy  repressed  breathings  indicating 
that  mother  was  almost  in  a  hysterical  state  from  her 
effort  to  keep  from  laughing  out  loud. 

This  offer  of  marriage  did  not  put  me  on  a  level 
with  the  other  girls  in  any  way.  I  could  not  boast  of 
it  as  they  boasted  of  their  offers,  and  so  I  said  nothing 
about  it;  and  I  told  mother  flat-footed  that  if  she  ever 
mentioned  it  to  any  one  I  would  drown  myself.  I  do 
not  believe  she  ever  told  it,  though  I  am  sure  it  must 
have  nearly  killed  her  to  keep  from  it. 

I  was  fourteen  years  old  when  my  second  offer  came. 
This  second  offer  afforded  me  no  more  gratification 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  189 

than  the  first  one  did  so  far  as  giving  me  a  chance  to 
boast  of  it  to  the  other  girls.  The  gentleman  from 
whom  T  received  it  did  not  belong  to  uour  set"  either. 

I  had  been  in  Salem  on  a  visit  to  some  friends 
there,  and  was  starting  home  again.  The  morning 
was  as  pleasant  as  could  be.  It  was  in  the  spring  and 
everything  was  coming  into  leaf,  and  the  air  was  mild 
and  delicious.  Salem  is  forty  miles  from  Fairfield. 
Just  now  it  is  coming  in  for  a  large  share  of  notice 
from  the  newspapers  as  being  the  former  residence  of 
Mr.  Bryan,  the  Democratic  candidate  for  President. 
It  was  a  town  of  not  more  than  five  hundred  people 
then,  among  whom  were  the  Marshalls,  Mr.  Bryan's 
near  relatives. 

There  were  no  railroads,  and  it  was  a  full  day's 
travel  from  Salem  to  Fairfield.  As  the  stage  swung 
around  in  front  of  Col.  Hainey's  residence,  where  I 
was  staying,  it  was  packed  full,  three  on  a  seat.  The 
driver  asked  if  I  was  willing  to  ride  outside  with  him. 
So  I  clambered  up  and  made  myself  comfortable  on 
the  highest  perch  to  be  had,  and  away  we  went  with 
four  splendid,  great,  gray  horses  in  front. 

I  have  tried  every  species  of  locomotion  from  a 
bicycle  to  an  elephant,  and  it  is  my  belief  that  there 
is  nothing  equal  to  a  stage  ride.     To  be  sure  our  stage 


190  A   SEARCH   FOR    FREEDOM. 

riding  in  southern  Illinois  was  rather  monotonous 
over  flat  prairies  and  wooded  bottom  lands,  with  here 
and  there  a  plunge  through  some  lovely  stream;  but 
I  have  had  experiences  in  stage  riding  the  memory  of 
which  will  go  with  me  a  long,  long  time  yet.  It  was 
in  the  mountain  regions  of  California  where  I  wrung 
from  this  experience  the  bewilderingly  exalted  emo- 
tions that  add  depth  and  breadth  to  the  ordinary  scope 
of  life.  Oh!  the  dauntless  joy  of  the  thing;  the  grip- 
on-fate  feeling;  the  fearlessness — not  recklessness — 
far  from  it,  but  absolute  fearlessness,  engendered  by 
a  sense  of  mastery  for  which  there  is  no  precedent, 
but  which  seems  to  rest  on  a  foundation  surer  than 
any  precedent  can  give.  There  is  something  truly 
divine  in  this  feeling.  With  me  it  was  a  realization 
of  my  own  deathlessness;  it  was  nothing  short  of  the 
temporary  externalization  of  spirit  or  will;  that  part 
of  me  which  is  absolute;  that  breath  of  the  infinite 
which  cannot  die.  It  came  through  my  body  and 
proclaimed  itself  invincible. 

How  many  times  I  have  taken  the  stage  at  Lower 
Lake,  near  which  place  I  was  living,  for  the  purpose 
of  reaching  Calistoga,  some  thirty  miles  away.  The 
soft,  magnetic  air  of  that  peculiar  climate  transfused 
my  whole  being;  the  beautiful  horses  were  themselves 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  191 

an  inspiration.  Trotting  or  walking  every  movement 
seemed  to  be  gauged  by  the  finest  steel  springs,  as 
we  travelled  along  toward  the  base  of  Mt.  Saint 
Helena.  Here  we  crossed  a  stream  that  often  was 
only  a  thread  of  silver,  and  again  a  raging  torrent; 
then  the  slow,  laborious  crawl  up  the  mountain  side 
until  we  reached  the  toll  house  on  top.  I  will  not 
describe  the  scenes  that  spread  out  before  us,  chang- 
ing constantly  as  we  ascended.  They  were  not 
particularly  wild,  but  very  varied,  and  to  me  lovely. 
There  is  grander  scenery  in  California  than  this,  but 
this  never  tired  me,  no  matter  how  frequently  I  passed 
over  the  road.  Each  grade  of  beauty  in  nature  finds 
its  response  in  one  of  the  numberless  phased  of  the 
human  mind. 

At  the  toll  house  fresh  horses  would  be  waiting  for 
us,  one  man  to  a  horse.  The  driver  got  down  from 
his  perch  and  examined  the  wagon;  examined  the 
harness  on  the  four  fresh  horses.  One  could  not  help 
observing  the  fine  sense  of  mastery  expressed  in  his 
face.  His  conquests  had  been  in  the  animal  realm, 
but  they  were  undoubted  conquests;  no  man  ever  wore 
that  look  but  there  was  a  reason  for  it.  Swinging 
back  to  his  place  the  wide  awake  observer  would 
notice  the  contraction  of  the  muscles  in  his  fine  arm, 


192  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

and  the  splendid  breast,  whose  broad,  deep  develop- 
ment in  a  man  always  gives  one  a  conviction  of 
tenderness  as  well  as  strength. 

"Turn  'era  loose,  boys.  Now  then!"  And  the 
horses  were  in  the  air  that  very  instant  on  a  mad  run, 
and  never  would  they  break  step  until  we  reached 
the  plain  some  miles  below.  Sometimes  the  coach 
was  on  three  wheels  as  we  zigzagged  round  one  of  the 
sudden  bends;  sometimes  it  was  on  two  wheels;  now 
and  then  it  was  on  one  wheel,  and  once  in  a  long  time 
there  were  no  wheels  touching  ground  as  it  scooted 
around  a  turn  above  some  fearful  incline.  There 
were  broken  bones  and  a  few  deaths  on  that  road,  but 
not  many;  and  when  accidents  happened,  the  driver 
was  strange  to  the  business,  and  wore  no  such  face  as 
the  one  I  have  described. 

Poor,  splendid  Hank  Monk  was  the  prince  of  stage 
drivers.  For  twenty  years  he  drove  every  day  over 
the  Sierra  Nevada  Range.  But  one  day  he  was  sick; 
he  could  not  go.  Presently  he  became  delirious  and 
in  his  burning  fever  he  was  on  the  stage  box  again 
talking  to  his  old  friends,  the  horses.  uSteady  now, 
boys;  you  know  this  slide  as  well  as  I  do;  go  slow. 
What's  the  matter  with  the  light?  Its  gettin'  dark 
long  before  it  ought  to!     Steady,  boys;  steady!11     He 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  193 

was  now  making  strong  movements  with  his  right 
foot.  Then  he  rested  as  if  in  despair,  and  with  a  voice 
so  truly  tragic  it  started  the  hair  on  the  heads  of 
those  about  him  he  said,  "I'm  on  the  down  grade  and 
can't  reach  the  brake.1'  These  were  his  last  words, 
and  they  were  spoken  as  if  the  responsibility  of  lives 
was  resting  on  him,  and  he  was  powerless  to  help. 

The  responsibility  of  lives  had  been  resting  on  him 
for  many  years,  and  he  had  not  ceased  to  feel  it  and  to 
be  true  to  it.  Where  is  the  monument  for  these 
staunch  souls  who  have  never  flinched  in  the  face  of 
duty?  Where  but  just  where  it  ought  to  be,  close 
locked  in  the  hearts  of  a  thousand  nameless  ones  who 
owe  so  much  to  them  for  the  splendid  patterns  of 
humanity  they  have  furnished. 

But  see  how  I  have  wandered  from  that  early  stage 
ride,  when  as  a  child  woman  I  sat  perched  on  the  box 
with  the  driver,  perfectly  enraptured  with  the  sense  of 
beauty  forced  on  me  by  the  flowers  and  trees  and 
running  brooks  and  the  banks  of  pearly  clouds.  I 
never  saw  the  time  when  I  have  not  felt  the  loveliness 
of  this  lovely  world. 

The  driver  sometimes  spoke  to  me,  and  I  answered 
him  civilly,  but  coldly.  He  was  not  of  "our  set";  he 
must  not  presume.     Still,  with  my  wide-awake,  per- 


194  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

ception  of  beauty  I  could  not  help  observing  the  fine 
athletic  grace  of  his  form  and  movements  as  he  let 
himself  down  or  climbed  back  to  the  box,  which  he 
did  quite  frequently  in  fixing  the  harness,  watering 
the  horses,  etc.  After  a  time  I  noticed  him  more 
carefully.  He  was  young;  his  face  was  clean  shaven; 
his  features  were  of  a  grand  type;  his  expression 
indicated  character;  his  dress — though  of  cheap  stuff, 
was  perfectly  clean,  and  could  not  at  all  conceal  the 
magnificent  proportions  of  his  splendid  form.  The 
word  handsome  does  not  describe  him%  and  even  at 
that  early  age  I  knew  it.  I  had  no  respect  then  any 
more  than  now  for  what  was  considered  the  ordinary 
masculine  beauty;  and  it  was  with  a  judgment  ahead 
of  my  years  that  I  measured  him.  I  felt  his  su- 
periority, though  I  could  not  have  described  it. 

I  saw  also  that  he  wished  to  please  me,  and  that  his 
eyes  lit  up  beautifully  if  ever  for  a  moment  my  eyes 
met  them.  But  it  was  seldom  that  this  happened, 
and  when  it  did  happen  it  was  simply  to  rebuke  the 
feeling  that  was  growing  in  him  for  me. 

The,  idea  of  a  stage  driver  daring  to  fall  in  love 
with  me.  He  did  not  know  the  aristocratic  stock  from 
which  I  was  descended.  I  wondered  what  grand- 
father Ridgeway  would  say  if  he  knew  about  it. 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  195 

I  had  been  educated  in  a  way  to  make  me  feel  the 
sacredness  of  caste  quite  as  much  as  any  Brahmin; 
and  the  Ridgeways  were  an  exclusive  race.  So  at 
least  their  boasting  had  made  them  appear  in  my 
sight.  Mother  had  sometimes  gone  East  to  visit  the 
relatives  there;  and  she  talked  a  good  deal  of  the 
splendors  of  the  wealthy  Ridgeways  of  Philadelphia. 
Old  John  Jacob  Ridgeway  who  was  the  confessed 
rival  financially  of  John  Jacob  Astor;  and  uncle  Tom 
Ridgeway  who  was  very  rich  and  lived  in  grand  style. 

And  the  tribe  of  Wilmans  was  not  an  inch  behind. 
Indeed  there  were  tales  of  almost  royal  descent  con- 
nected with  the  Wilmanses.  Grandfather  Wilmans 
was  a  German;  and  Germany  was  so  far  away  in  those 
days  that  it  was  easy  to  credit  the  old  gentleman  with 
having  been  a  baron  at  least.  This  belief  was  very 
strong  among  the  people,  though  I  never  heard  it 
talked  of  by  my  grandfather  at  all.  Indeed  grand- 
father Wilmans  was  a  strangely  reticent  man,  and 
never  said  anything  to  throw  light  on  the  reports 
about  him.  But  it  is  a  fact  that  he  did  no  work,  had 
no  business  of  any  kind,  and  drew  a  large  sum 
annually  from  Germany  and  lived  in  great  style  for 
that  time  and  place. 

So  we  had  quite  a  large  supply  of  family  pride  to 


196  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

live  up  to;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  I  should  have 
looked  upon  this  young  man  very  much  as  I  would 
have  looked  on  an  unusually  fine  horse.  And  this  is 
just  what  I  did.  And  yet  there  was  something  so 
manifestly  distinguished  in  his  face  that  I  hesitated 
more  than  once  before  I  settled  it  as  a  fact  that  he 
was  a  stage  driver  and  nothing  more. 

He  was  quite  illiterate  as  his  language  demonstrated; 
and  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  he  was  no  equal  of 
mine,  and  had  no  right  to  think  he  was.  But  what  an 
astonishingly  bright  face  he  had,  and  how  gentle  his 
manner  was  towards  me.  Each  mile  of  our  journey 
added  to  his  interest  in  me  until — except  for  his  un- 
fortunate grammer — he  might  have  been  a  prince 
paying  the  most  delicate  attentions  to  the  princess  of 
his  choice. 

About  a  week  after  I  reached  home  the  mail  brought 
me  a  letter  from  him,  and  it  contained  an  offer  of 
marriage.  It  was  written  in  a  school-boy  hand,  and  I 
do  not  believe  there  was  a  capital  letter  in  it  from 
beginning  to  end. 

The  letter  was  absolutely  useless.  I  could  not  show 
it  to  my  girl  friends  at  all.  I  carried  it  in  the  bosom 
of  my  dress  for  a  week  with  the  secret  pride  that  I 
had  had  a  real,  sure-enough  offer,  and  yet  with  the 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  197 

chagrin  that  it  came  from  a  stage  driver  and  was  un- 
grammatical  in  its  construction. 

My  thoughts  for  the  author  of  the  letter  were  about 
as  considerate  as  those  of  a  Newfoundland  puppy  for 
the  rag  doll  it  is  tearing  up.  Indeed  I  did  not  think 
of  him  at  all,  and  never  answered  his  letter,  and  never 
saw  him  again — at  least,  not  for  many  years. 

I  did  see  him  again,  and  under  very  changed  cir- 
cumstances. I  was  married  and  living  in  California, 
an  overworked  farmer's  wife  with  four  children.  I 
had  scarcely  been  off  the  farm  for  years  except  to  the 
nearest  village.  Something  prompted  me  to  go  to  the 
State  fair  at  Sacramento.  My  husband,  Dr.  Baker, 
fought  the  proposition  as  usual,  but  I  would  not  yield, 
and  went,  taking  every  chick  and  child  along.  The 
opening  speech  was  made  by  the  governor  of  the  state. 
I  had  taken  too  little  interest  in  politics  to  know  or 
care  anything  about  the  late  gubernatorial  election 
beyond  the  fact  that  the  name  of  one  of  the  rival 
candidates  was  familiar  to  me,  but  as  it  was  a  very 
common  name  I  thought  nothing  of  it. 

When  the  speaker  arose  he  was  greeted  with  great 
applause.  I  turned  cold  all  over,  though  the  day  was 
blazing  hot;  for  right  before  me,  and  not  very  far 
away,  was  the  identical  stage  driver  who  had  offered 


198  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

himself  to  me.  He  was  handsomer  than  ever;  not 
with  commonplace  good  looks,  but  with  the  look  of 
matured  mastery,  coupled  with  the  original  beauty 
that  had  been  his  rich  endowment  from  nature. 
There  he  stood,  a  fit  model  for  a  god,  receiving  the 
hearty  plaudits  of  the  people  who  loved  him,  and  not 
without  cause.  And  there  I  sat,  a  worn  and  faded 
woman  who  had  passed  through  enough  hardships  to 
kill  a  herd  of  Mexican  mustangs,  and  who  carried  the 
trace  of  her  overworked  and  outraged  life  in  every 
line  of  a  prematurely  faded  face  and  form. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


A   MOST   WORSHIPFUL   HERO. 

Of  course,  my  readers  have  noticed  that  this  is  not 
a  connected  autobiography.  It  was  not  my  intention 
to  make  it  such.  I  only  wished  to  dip  into  the  sun- 
shiny spots  of  my  life,  where  the  green  grass  was 
growing,  and  give  little  incidents  that  marked  stages 
of  my  progress. 

But  there  came  a  long  interval  where  there  was  no 
sunshine;  and  though  I  do  not  like  to  write  of  that 
time,  I  fear  that  after  a  few  pages  more  I  shall  be 
forced  to  do  so.  But  even  then,  along  with  the 
gloom,  I  managed  to  extract  a  little  coloring  that 
went  a  good  way  toward  relieving  it. 

I  was  a  happy  disposition;  or  perhaps  it  would  be 
more  true  to  say  that  I  had  the  most  inexhaustible 
vitality  I  have  ever  seen  in  any  living  soul*,  man  or 
woman.  It  actually  seemed  as  if  nothing  could  crush 
me. 

Like  a  child,  when  hurt  to  the  quick  I  kept  hunt- 
ing something  to  amuse  me  and  take  my  thoughts 

1©3 


200  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

away  from  the  smart.  I  think  this  disposition  was 
the  thing  that  helped  me  to  bear  the  bluffs  and  insults 
I  received  in  childhood  with  so  much  indifference. 
They  would  have  hurt,  only  I  could  not  bear  to  think 
of  them,  and  gradually  schooled  myself  to  indifference. 
I  observe  that  this  is  characteristic  of  nearly  all 
children  so  long  as  they  remain  children.  The  oddity 
was  that  I  carried  the  same  thing  through  all  my 
earlier  womanhood,  and  would  be  carrying  it  still  but 
for  the  fact  that  it  has  merged  into  something  better; 
namely,  the  knowledge  that  the  opinions  of  most 
people,  and  even  their  actions,  are  not  based  on  any 
reasoning  of  their  own,  but  are  exercised  as  the  result 
of  heredity;  this  condition  making  them  as  irre- 
sponsible as  so  many  automatons  worked  by  wires 
whose  fastenings  are  way  back  in  the  unthinking 
past.  This  being  the  case  I  have  really  no  respect  for 
their  opinions,  and  do  not  care  in  the  least  what  such 
persons  say  of  me  or  think  of  me,  any  more  than  I 
care  for  the  opinions  of  the  animals — if  they  have 
opinions.' 

A  correct  judgment  of  others  will  establish  the 
independent  thinker  in  a  very  free  position.  It  is 
because  we  endow  others  with  a  judgment  superior 
to  our  own  that  their  adverse  opinions  hurt  us. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  201 

Of  course  there  are  persons  whose  opinions  are 
entitled  to  our  respect,  but  the  number  is  very  small 
yet.  The  average  man  does  not  think.  He  hitches 
his  thinking  machinery  to  the  thinking  machinery  of 
some  other  person,  whose  thinking  machinery  is 
hitched  to  another  person's  still,  or  to  some  book 
which  has  the  authority  of  numbers  to  sustain  it,  if 
not  of  brains.  And  so  the  masses  cling  together  from 
the  very  vacuity  of  thought;  and  together  they  fall 
upon  the  person  who  dares  do  his  own  thinking,  and 
in  their  blind  fury  they  destroy  him  if  they  can. 

This  is  not  an  overdrawn  picture  of  public  opinion. 
It  is  the  most  ignorant,  irrational  thing  I  know  of. 
Look  at  it  from  all  sides  and  judge  it — not  by  the 
number  of  people  it  represents — but  by  its  true 
character,  and  then  see  if  you,  who  are  beginning  to 
do  your  own  thinking,  can  afford  to  be  influenced  by  it. 

The  most  perfect  freedom  of  all  is  that  which  one 
gains  by  a  true  conception  of  public  opinion.  To 
understand  its  worthlessness  liberates  us  to  a  wonder- 
ful extent;  gives  us  a  chance  to  be  our  own  real 
selves;  enables  the  "I"  within  us  to  stand  erect;  a 
thing  that  very  few  "I's"  have  done  in  this  world. 

Indeed,  I  believe  I  may  say  that  as  yet  not  one  has 
quite   done   so,   though   a  few    have    approached    a 


202  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

perpendicular  attitude.  When  an  "I"  shall  stand 
entirely  erect,  then  for  the  first  time  the  earth  will 
behold  a  god. 

In  1849  the  gold  fever  broke  out  in  California;  or 
rather  the  fever  which  had  its  rise  in  California  broke 
out  all  over  the  United  States.  Our  town  and  county 
were  shaken  up  to  an  extent  never  known  before. 
Companies  organized  and  made  much  preparation  for 
"crossing  the  plains."  My  father  went;  and  this  was 
the  last  I  ever  saw  of  him,  for  he  died  there  after  five 
or  six  years.  Instead  of  bettering  his  fortune  he 
was  ruined  financially  by  the  adventure.  His  mer- 
cantile business,  which  had  made  him  quite  a  rich 
man  for  that  part  of  the  country,  had  been  going 
down  for  several  years  before  he  left.  Setting  his 
younger  brothers  up  in  business,  and  paying  for  their 
mistakes;  doing  the  same  for  my  mother's  brothers, 
and  going  security  for  everybody  who  asked  him, 
finally  brought  him  face  to  face  with  a  very  perplex- 
ing situation.  He  thought  to  mend  matters  by  going 
to  the  Golden  State  and  picking  up  a  fresh  fortune. 
He  went,  but  did  not  get  the  fortune,  and  so  put  off 
his  return  from  year  to  year  until  death  overtook  him 
suddenly. 

About  six  months  before  the  California  fever  broke 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  203 

out,  a  gentleman  took  up  his  abode  in  Fairfield,  with 
whom  all  the  ladies  in  town  were  mightily  pleased. 
When  I  saw  him  first  he  was  walking  from  the  hotel 
to  our  store.  His  appearance  was  something  of  an 
excitement  even  to  my  phlegmatic  nature.  He  was 
of  a  splendid  height,  and  magnificently  formed;  a 
veritable' Hercules  in  strength,  and  an  Adonis  in 
beauty.  Perhaps  what  struck  me  more  than  his  noble 
proportions  was  his  fine  clothes;  real,  sure-enough 
"store  clothes,"  and  no  mistake,  all  topped  off  with  a 
silk  hat. 

"Store  clothes"  is  not  a  high-sounding  phrase  now, 
but  the  very  reverse.  At  that  time,  however,  the 
phrase  had  reference  more  to  the  material  than  to  the 
make.  It  was  before  the  day  of  ready-made  clothing. 
It  pointed  the  fact  that  his  clothes  were  not  of  the 
homespun  cloth  that  our  farmers1  wives  manufactured 
into  garments  for  their  husbands  and  sons,  but  were 
made  of  fine,  glossy,  imported  and  expensive  goods. 

There  was  not  a  particle  of  the  fop  or  pretender 
about  him.  I  knew  that  at  a  glance.  He  certainly 
did  look  to  be  a  very  manly  man.  He  interested  me 
from  the  first  moment  I  saw  him.  It  was  not  the 
interest  that  men  usually  awaken  in  women;  it  was 
rather  that  I  looked  upon  him  as  a  curiosity.     I  kept 


204  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

thinking  of  him  and  wanted  to  see  him  at  closer 
range,  just  as  a  child  who  catches  a  glimpse  of  the 
elephant  as  it  disappears  through  the  doors  of  the 
circus  tent  wants  to  get  a  better  view  of  it. 

It  was  not  many  days  before  I  was  gratified.  He 
came  to  our  house  and  begged  mother  as  a  great  favor 
to  board  him.  He  could  not  stand  the  hotel;  and  no 
wonder  for  it  was  beyond  toleration  by  anyone  but 
some  transient  customer  who  had  to  stop  there  or  in 
the  street. 

I  had  no  idea  that  mother  would  receive  him  in  the 
family,  as  she  had  never  taken  a  boarder  before;  but 
she  did,  and  gave  him  the  best  room  in  the  house.  I 
discovered  afterwards  that  every  one  of  my  aunts,  as 
well  as  mother,  had  made  up  their  brilliant  minds 
that  the  Lord  had  sent  this  gorgeous  individual  for 
the  special  purpose  of  marrying  me.  He  was  a  doctor 
and  had  come  to  locate.  I  think  he  was  the  only 
doctor  in  town  who  was  regularly  equipped  with  that 
essential  of  the  craft  called  a  diploma.  He  had 
graduated  at  old  Ben  Dudley's  Institution  in  Lexing- 
ton, Kentucky.  He  was  not  a  very  young  man,  being 
as  much  as  thirty-five  years  old,  and  he  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to  the  daughter  of  the  Governor  of 
the  state.      This  sounded  big;  and  I  expect  it  put  a 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  205 

check  on  the  dawning  hopes  of  my  uncles  and  aunts 
and  cousins;  but  somehow  it  did  not  dampen  my 
irrepressible  spirits. 

I  had  been  taught  to  look  up  to  men  as  superior 
creatures,  and  it  was  years  and  years  before  I  dis- 
covered my  mistake;  and  yet  the  critical  spirit  was 
wide  awake  in  me,  with  a  strong  inclination  to  trust 
my  own  opinion  of  them,  and  to  measure  them  with 
the  same  judgment  that  I  measured  women.  But 
the  force  of  education  was  too  strong,  and  I  was 
almost  compelled  by  the  family  idolatry  of  this  person 
to  feel  myself  complimented  by  his  attentions.  Not 
that  his  attentions  meant  anything  more  at  that  time 
than  a  little  polite  appreciation  of  my  social  and 
literary  merits,  of  which  my  friends  were  very  proud. 
He  told  us,  and  told  everybody  of  his  engagement, 
and  evidently  considered  it  a  great  feather  in  his  cap. 

I  am  held  for  a  moment  by  the  words  "social  and 
literary,"  that  I  have  just  used  about  myself.  I 
actually  wrote  poetry  in  those  days,  and  it  was  gladly 
accepted  by  our  one  little  botched  and  dreadfully 
printed  weekly  paper.  It  was  very  difficult  for  any 
one  to  make  good  sense  of  the  stuff  after  it  was 
published;  partly  because  the  print  was  so  imperfect, 
but  principally  because  there  was  no  sense  in  it.     But 


206  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

it  was  called  poetry,  and  nobody  seemed  to  know  the 
difference;  and  I  was  wreathed  in  glory.  If  an 
original  poem  was  to  be  read  on  the  fourth  of  July 
who  but  I  should  write  it?  If  a  baby  died  it  was  a 
consolation  to  the  parents  to  have  a  poem  written 
about  it.  Mercy!  how  much  work  it  was  to  write 
one;  what  cudgeling  of  brains;  what  adroit  pilfering 
from  other  poets;  no  not  other  poets,  but  poets;  how 
hard  it  was  to  work  in  such  expressions  as  uthe  Lord 
giveth,  the  Lord  hath  taken  away;  blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord!"  In  the  first  place  the  words  were 
as  hard  to  lead  into  any  correct  measure  as  a  lot  of 
untrained  pigs  to  market;  and  in  the  second  place  I 
could  not  forebear  some  original  cogitations  about  the 
Lord's  right  to  take  away  what  he  had  once  given.  It 
involved  a  question  of  morality  to  me  that  threatened 
to  wreck  my  theology.  But  always  in  some  way — 
by  sheer  force  of  animal  will,  I  expect — I  got  over  the 
difficulties  and  produced  what  was  required  of  me,  and 
it  satisfied  my  appreciative  audience. 

Now,  Dr.  Baker — for  this  was  my  new  friend's 
name — was  no  better  judge  of  my  articles  than  the 
rest  of  the  community,  even  though  he  was  fairly 
educated;  and  he  too  thought  me  a  genius  and  did  not 
withhold  his  praise. 


A   8EARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  207 

Matters  stood  in  this  state  of  gentle  admiration 
from  him  towards  me  for  quite  a  long  time;  I  cannot 
recall  how  long.  But  I  did  not  like  him  much.  I 
tried  to,  because  my  entire  family  were  in  a  state  of 
perspiring  worship  for  him,  and  their  condition  put 
its  compulsion  on  me  to  be  likewise.  But  no,  he  had 
grown  commonplace.  The  novelty  of  his  superb 
upholstering  wore  off  so  that  I  lost  respect  for  it;  and 
when  the  cat  had  kittens  one  night  in  his  silk  hat  I 
was  glad  of  it,  though  I  concealed  my  feelings  and 
put  on  a  face  of  hypocritical  regret  to  keep  mother 
from  scolding  me.  It  would  have  been  just  like  her 
to  suspect  that  I  had  taken  that  immaculate  head  gear 
down  from  its  peg  and  put  it  where  "Crazy  Jane" 
could  make  use  of  it;  so  it  behooved  me  to  be  sorrow- 
ful; and  I  was. 

The  same  sort  of  compulsion  was  on  me  when  at 
last  he  professed  to  love  me.  I  cannot  recall  just 
why  his  engagement  with  the  Governor's  daughter 
was  broken  off;  but  I  believe  she  married  a  rich  man 
and  left  him  out  in  the  cold.  I  ought  to  know  all 
about  it,  for  I  lived  with  him  a  good  many  years 
after  that,  and  often  heard  him  repeat  the  circum- 
stances to  the  coarse  crowds  he  gathered  around  him, 
and  swear  over  the  perfidy  of  women  until  even  the 


208  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

listening  "bull  whackers,"  as  the  cow  boys  were  called 
then,  turned  white  about  the  gills.  But  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  hearing  a  narrative  repeated  so  often  you 
lose  the  sense  of  it,  and  cannot  repeat  it  yourself. 
And  as  these  particular  outbursts  had  their  origin  in  a 
desire  to  insult  me,  I  took  very  small  notice  of  them. 
But  to  go  back  to  the  time  of  his  jilting,  I  must 
say  he  did  not  appear  to  care  then,  and  fell  easily  into 
the  way  of  making  love  to  me;  a  love  that  I  did  not 
dare  repulse  for  fear  of  bringing  down  the  wrath  of 
my  family  on  my  head.  Why,  he  was  a  gentleman — 
the  best  educated  man  and  the  finest  appearing  one 
ever  seen  in  Fairfield!  Any  woman  might  be  proud  to 
get  him  for  a  husband.  Contrast  him  with  the  town 
boys,  and  see  the  difference.  And  here  were  my 
family  from  the  oldest  down,  except  my  father,  who — 
metaphorically — were  crawling  on  their  stomachs  be- 
fore him  in  the  intensity  of  their  admiration,  and  no 
doubt  praying  the  Lord  every  night  to  grant  them  the 
boon  of  perpetual  relationship  through  his  marriage 
to  me.  Even  Aunt  Sally  Linthecum  'Tastled  with 
God  in  prar"  to  this  same  end.  She  said  so  after- 
wards. And  to  tell  the  unvarnished  truth  it  is  the 
only  prayer  God  ever  answered  for  me;  and  it  got  me 
into  great  trouble;  trouble  that  He  never  tried  to  get 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  209 

me  out  of,  though  I  prayed  to  Him  for  years  after- 
wards, until  I  got  disgusted  and  took  the  matter  in 
my  own  hands  and  easily  became  liberated.  How 
true  it  is  that  God  helps  those  who  help  themselves; 
or,  in  other  words,  how  much  easier  one  can  get  along 
without  Him  than  with  Him. 

I  was  not  really  engaged  to  be  married  to  Dr.  Baker 
when  he  left  with  a  company  overland  for  California. 
I  received  one  or  two  letters  from  him,  which  1  con- 
cealed from  mother,  and  did  not  answer.  Thus  the 
matter  terminated  as  I  supposed;  but  in  reality  it  had 
hardly  begun. 

But  something  else  had  begun  for  us;  and  that  was 
hard  times.  We  were  really  poor.  Father  had  left 
many  outstanding  accounts  for  mother  to  collect,  and 
which  would  have  supported  the  family  if  she  had 
collected  them.  But  most  of  them  proved  worthless. 
Father  kept  sending  money  along  as  he  could  make  it, 
but  everything  went  wrong  with  him,  and  he  could  not 
send  much.  ]  can  imagine  his  distress,  for  I  know  his 
generous  nature.  He  had  never  withheld  anything 
from  his  family.  Indeed,  he  loved  to  have  us  spend 
money,  and  not  one  of  us  could  recall  the  time  when 
he  would  not  have  made  every  possible  sacrifice  for  us. 

It  was  after  the  California  crowd  had  departed,  and 


210  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

we  began  to  feel  the  grip  of  poverty,  that  I  regretted 
how  indifferent  I  had  been  to  every  opportunity  I  had 
had  to  get  an  education.  I  wanted  to  go  to  school 
and  prepare  myself  for  a  literary  career.  I  had  been 
nattered  a  good  deal,  but  fortunately  I  did  not  have 
one  bit  of  confidence  in  the  opinions  of  my  friends 
concerning  my  writings;  I  knew  they  were  trash,  and 
I  knew  that  I  had  not  any  of  that  rare  element  in  my 
composition  called  genius.  At  the  same  time  I  felt 
sure  I  had  something  worth  more  than  all  the  genius 
in  the  world,  and  nobody  guessed  what  it  was;  nor  did 
I  define  it,  though  I  knew  it  was  within  me  then  as 
well  as  I  know  it  now. 

How  shall  I  describe  it?  It  was  a  kind  of  fortitude, 
a  power  to  bear  and  endure  and  never  yield  and  never 
be  discouraged,  that  always  rested  me  when  1  went 
down  within  myself.  It  was  not  courage,  but  more 
than  courage;  it  was  not  vitality,  but  more  than 
vitality;  it  was  not  hope,  but  certainty;  it  was  not  the 
promise  of  more  life,  but  the  indestructible  principle 
of  life  itself.  It  was  the  perfect  assurance  of  success 
in  any  career  I  might  undertake;  it  was  solid  ground 
and  rich  in  the  promise  of  bearing,  no  matter  what 
kind  of  seed  I  planted  in  it.  It  was  the  self-hood  of 
me,  the  invincible  "I." 


A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  211 

The  frothy  surface  me  used  to  go  down  into  the 
depths  of  this  real  me  and  get  courage  and  consolation 
from  it;  for  it  was  the  incarnation  of  strength  in 
repose.  Moreover,  it  was  the  containant  of  every- 
thing I  could  desire.  It  was  the  food  and  drink, 
the  "green  pastures'1  and  "still  waters1'  of  my  soul. 
I  was  at  home  in  it,  and  I  was  at  home  nowhere 
else. 

So,  though  I  knew  my  poems  were  trash,  I  was 
not  discouraged  because  I  trusted  this — more  than 
promise — this  spirit  of  infinite  fulfillment  within 
me;  and  trusting  it,  no  blows  hurt  me  except  for 
the  moment.  Whatever  struck  me  struck  that 
deathless  something  that  could  neither  be  bruised 
nor  killed. 

Now  this,  in  its  external  manifestation,  was  a  spirit 
of  wonderful  endurance.  It  was  even  more;  it  was  a 
kind  of  fearlessness  that  overrode  temporary  dis- 
appointments, which — taken  in  connection  with  my 
sense  of  humor — gave  me  a  happy  disposition  and 
made  a  great  laugher  of  me. 

During  these  years  I  had  to  a  considerable  extent 
dropped  the  shadow  of  brother  Findlay's  religion. 
The  current  of  life  within  was  too  strong  to  tolerate 
it.     I  had  not  reasoned  myself  out  of  it,  but  had  be- 


212  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

come  too  vital  for  its  death-dealing  influence  to  cloud 
me  more  than  a  few  hours  at  a  time,  on  occasions  of 
church  revivals,  etc. 

I  was  thinking  more  of  getting  an  education  than 
anything  else.  One  day  I  got  hold  of  Madame  De 
Stael's  "Corinne"  and  became  enthused  by  it.  There 
was  something  in  the  book  that  operated  on  my 
ignorant  mind  like  wine.  I  felt  that  all  the  barriers 
to  my  long  cherished  wish  were  removed,  and  that  the 
way  would  now  open ;  and  it  did. 

There  had  only  been  one  obstacle  all  the  time,  and 
that  was  lack  of  money.  Where  would  the  money 
come  from  ?  My  brother  Ivens  was  "printer's  devil" 
in  Mr.  Stickney's  office  on  a  salary  of  two  dollars  a 
week,  and  that  never  paid.  But  some  undreamed  of 
windfall  put  it  in  Mr.  Stickney's  power  to  pay  him. 

The  amount  was  $20.  The  little  fellow  brought  it 
to  me  with  his  sweet  dark  eyes  all  aglow,  and  told  me 
I  could  have  it  to  go  to  school  on. 

Immediately  afterwards  a  neighbor  told  me  that 
she  had  relatives  in  Jacksonville,  Illinois,  and  was 
going  to  visit  them,  and  asked  me  to  go  with  her  in 
the  large  family  carriage. 

Now,  Jacksonville  was  the  goal  of  my  ambition. 
It  was  a  college  town;  and  another  thing  that  seemed 


A   SEARCH   FOR    FREEDOM.  213 

to  point  in  the  line  of  my  desires  was  the  fact  that  I 
knew  a  splendid  family  there  who  were  distant 
relatives,  and  who  liked  me  very  much.  Mr.  James 
Dickens  was  a  methodist  preacher  as  poor  as  a  church 
mouse,  with  a  heart  big  enough  to  compensate  for 
the  smallness  of  his  purse.  I  could  go  there  almost 
without  cost,  and  if  things  did  not  shape  themselves 
my  way,  I  could  come  home  when  my  friends  re- 
turned. 

On  my  way  to  Jacksonville  T  saw  my  first  train  of 
cars.  The  Illinois  Central  was  the  only  railroad  in 
the  state;  and  I  am  under  the  impression  that  it  had 
then  been  in  operation  but  a  short  time.  The  family 
and  I  got  out  of  the  carriage  when  we  came  to  the 
crossing,  and  looking  away  for  miles  and  miles  along 
the  perfectly  straight  track  stretching  through  the 
seemingly  boundless  prairie  to  the  far  horizon  line, 
we  saw  something  moving  towards  us  no  larger  than 
a  man's  hat.  It  was  a  coming  train.  I  watched  it 
increase  in  size,  as  it  approached,  with  feelings  of 
indescribable  exultation  and  a  swelling  sense  of  man's 
power  that  I  had  never  felt  before;  and  when  with  a 
rush  and  a  roar  that  made  us  tremble  for  our  safety, 
it  plunged  past  with  all  the  windows  open  and 
passengers   waving  hats  and  handkerchiefs  at  us,  I 


214  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

turned  insane  for  the  moment — or  sane,  rather — and 
found  myself  saying  to  God,  "What  ails  you  that  you 
let  man's  work  beat  your  own  ?  It  is  time  you  stopped 
crowing  and  went  to  work  to  do  some  practical  good." 
Jogging  along  in  the  old  carriage  the  remainder  of 
the  afternoon  I  became  deeply  repentant  over  the 
unprecedented  burst  of  reason  that  had  flooded  my 
theology  for  the  moment,  and  prayed  for  forgiveness 
as  I  had  very  seldom  prayed  before. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


SCHOOL    AGAIN. 

Occasionally  I  pick  up  a  paper  and  begin  to  read 
some  sap-headed  story  of  college  days.  I  drop  it  like 
a  hot  potato,  and  rush  off  to  one  of  the  books  of  some 
old  scientist  to  get  the  taste  out  of  my  mouth.  The 
insipidity,  the  almost  nauseating  egotism  of  these 
exceedingly  young  persons  as  told  in  the  novels 
printed  about  them,  and  their  verdant  proceedings,  is 
beyond  the  power  of  matter-of-fact  people  to  endure. 

Yet  here  I  am  doing  the  same  thing.  I  would  not 
have  believed  it  of  myself. 

After  all  there  must  be  some  fault  in  the  way 
these  stories  are  told;  some  lack  of  nature  in  their 
unfoldment.  They  do  not  truly  represent  the  young 
people.  They  "endanger  the  lives  of  their  clients  by 
trying  to  stretch  them  up  into  giants."  We  feel  the 
spirit  of  exaggeration  that  conceals  and  mars  the 
real  beauty  which  surely  does  abound  there.  The 
college  boys  themselves,  outside  of  these  stories,  are 
full  of  interest  to  me.      It  seems  as  if  I  can  never  get 

21€5 


216  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

done  laughing  at  them  and  with  them;  not  in  the 
way  of  ridicule,  let  me  tell  you,  but  out  of  pure 
sympathy  in  their  irrepressible  spirits,  their  nonsense 
and  fun.  I  love  them  dearly;  and  when  a  crowd  of 
them  boards  a  street  car  in  which  I  sit  placidly,  the 
whole  atmosphere  changes;  the  sparkle  of  champagne 
comes  in  it;  I  get  young  immediately,  carrying  back 
to  this  renewed  youth  a  deeper  understanding  of  the 
boys  than  they  themselves  have;  for  I  see  them 
glorified  by  the  knowledge  their  latent  capacities  hold 
in  abeyance. 

The  thing  I  like  best  about  the  boys  is  their 
naturalness.  Girls  become  distorted  by  being  made 
to  try  to  appear  pretty  and  sweet.  Too  many  of  them 
are  always  conscious  of  the  public  eye.  But  not  so 
with  the  boys.  Through  the  bur  of  their  uncon- 
sciousness you  see  their  native  goodness  and  sweetness; 
and  it  is  a  strange  woman  who  does  not  feel  like 
adopting  almost  every  one  she  sees. 

When  I  reached  Jacksonville  I  found  my  friend, 
Mr.  Dickens,  who  immediately  shouldered  my  re- 
sponsibilities and  bridged  the  way  for  my  entering 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Conference  Female  College. 
I  suppose  it  would  be  offended  if  I  were  to  abridge  its 
title.     Mr.  Jaques  was  president;  and  he  consented  to 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  217 

let  me  enter  the  school  without  paying  the  annual 
fee  in  advance.  I  was  expected  to  go  into  the  country 
and  teach  during  the  three  months  vacation  that 
came  every  year,  and  out  of  my  earnings  I  was  to  pay 
this  bill.  Mr.  Dickens  and  his  good  wife  would  board 
me  and  trust  the  Lord  for  their  pay,  which  was  only 
two  dollars  a  week.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  I  did  not 
have  to  call  on  my  security,  but  paid  them  constantly 
and  lovingly  by  sharing  everything  I  had  with  them; 
last  of  all  an  unexpected  piece  of  good  luck  that 
happened  to  me,  of  which  I  shall  presently  speak. 

If  I  am  not  mistaken  Mr.  Dickens'  salary  was  only 
four  hundred  dollars  a  year.  He  had  a  small  farm  in 
the  country  near  Jacksonville  that  was  rented  out  to 
his  eldest  son,  Washington,  who  only  came  home 
occassionally  on  a  visit.  The  second  child  was  Kate, 
a  girl  near  my  own  age.  After  Kate  came  Benny 
and  Jim  and  Shug.  Shug  was  the  youngest.  I  do 
not  recall  her  true  name  or  know  whether  she  had 
one.  Shug  was  used  as  a  contraction  of  sugar  and 
applied  to  her  because  of  her  sweetness. 

Jacksonville,  Illinois,  was  then  the  college  town  of 
the  state.  It  was  a  beautiful  place  of  ten  thousand 
people;  peculiar  people  too.  I  wonder  if  the  in- 
habitants of  all  college  towns  are  not  in  a  measure 


218  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

dominated  by  the  superabundant  vitality  of  the 
students,  who  swarm  the  thoroughfares  and  places  of 
resort,  lead  in  the  amusements  and  constitute  an  ever 
ubiquitous  element  like  the  air  that  people  must 
breathe,  until  they  become  of  the  same  nature  that 
it  is. 

To  me  Jacksonville  was  a  city.  I  had  never  seen  so 
large  a  town  before.  The  stores  were  splendid — so  I 
thought  then — and  how  Kate  and  I  longed  for  some 
of  the  goods  on  display  in  the  windows.  Sometimes 
we  went  in  and  made  our  small  purchases  and  walked 
away  regretfully.  If  I  had  been  a  princess  royal  I 
could  not  have  been  treated  more  courteously.  The 
manners  of  the  salesmen  were  very  marked,  and  I  was 
always  urged  to  purchase  more.  At  several  places  we 
were  coaxed  to  run  bills;  but  for  a  long  time  we 
declined  to  do  so.  I  was  well  dressed  when  I  left 
home,  and  for  nearly  a  year  I  made  my  garments 
serve  me.  I  had  passed  one  vacation,  during  which 
time  I  earned  enough  by  teaching  school  in  the 
country  to  pay  for  past  tuition,  books,  etc.,  at  the 
college,  and  a  little  for  Mr.  Dickens;  but  not  a  dollar 
did  I  have  for  myself. 

Kate  would  have  gone  in  debt  to  the  merchants  if 
her  parents  bad  not  prevented  it.     But  at  last  I  was 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  219 

forced  to  do  so.  Later  I  became  well  acquainted  with 
a  nice  young  clerk  who  told  me  about  the  system. 
He  said  the  merchants  were  safe  in  giving  the  girls 
goods  on  credit,  and  rarely  lost  a  dollar.  In  a  great 
percentage  of  cases  the  parents  paid  the  bills;  in  a 
few  cases  the  girls  married,  and  the  husbands,  under 
a  law  then  in  force,  had  to  pay  debts  contracted  by 
the  wife  before  marriage.  It  was  well  understood 
that  in  any  case  a  debt  lay  heavily  on  the  mind  of  a 
girl  or  woman,  and  she  never  rested  until  it  was  paid. 
This  was  a  peculiarity  the  merchants  were  always 
ready  to  take  chances  on. 

For  my  part  I  knew  how  heavily  it  rested  on  one 
girl's  mind,  but  that  did  not  restrain  me.  I  began  to 
dress  beautifully,  though  not  extravagantly;  and  I 
made  my  own  dresses,  having  excellent  talent  in  that 
direction.  But  the  better  I  dresssed  the  more  shabbily 
did  Kate  and  her  dear  mother  appear.  So  I  bought 
clothes  for  them  and  the  children,  and  we  were  all 
very  happy,  and  unhappy  also,  in  consequence.  If  I 
could  only  have  known  how  it  would  terminate  my 
heart  would  have  been  sufficiently  lightened  to  have 
enjoyed  the  situation  better. 

In  the  meantime  I  was  making  a  record  in  the 
college.      I    was    exercising — without    knowing    its 


220  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

power — the  great  secret  of  the  age,  of  all  ages — which 
is  that  persistent  effort  conquers,  no  matter  what  the 
opposition  may  be.  Nay,  more;  that  it  creates  out  of 
nothing,  as  it  were,  anything  on  which  the  desire  is 
centered. 

I  had  not  been  three  months  in  college  before  I 
felt  myself  a  leader  in  every  branch  of  study;  and  a 
social  leader  also.  I  was  a  leader  by  virtue  of  the 
reason  that  I  did  not  care  to  lead.  My  head  was  full 
of  an  ideal  to  be  achieved.  And  though  this  ideal 
was  so  indistinct  that  I  could  not  have  defined  it,  yet 
it  was  always  before  me  like  some  veiled  thing  of  such 
dazzling  beauty  I  scarcely  dared  ask  to  behold  it  un- 
covered, and  was  satisfied  to  leave  it  in  the  varying 
cloud  tints  of  its  ever  changing  loveliness.  This 
imaginative  thing  became  the  polar  star  of  my 
destiny,  and  took  many  a  fanciful  shape  before  I 
knew  what  it  meant  and  what  it  was. 

At  the  present  time,  though  years  and  years  have 
passed,  I  only  know  in  part;  but  it  is  still  my  ever 
faithful  guide  that  I  never  tire  in  following,  even  when 
it  leads  me  so  far  from  the  beaten  track  of  thought 
that  I  am  momentarily  overcome  and  lost  in  a  sense 
of  indescribable  loneliness. 

If  I  had  been  left  alone  then  to  simply  grow  in  the 


A  SEARCH   FOR  FREEDOM.  221 

direction  of  my  ideal,  I  scarcely  dare  imagine  what 
would  have  been  the  result.  It  would  have  been 
heaven  on  earth.  Of  this  I  am  sure;  for  heaven  exists 
here,  and  men  are  bound  to  come  into  a  consciousness 
of  it  sooner  or  later.  I  had  it  within  my  grasp,  but 
lost  it  for  the  time  by  plunging  into  the  pessimistic 
spirit  of  the  age  and  taking  up  the  cudgel  in  defence 
of  the  wrongs  of  others.  I  had  not  learned  that 
people's  wrongs  are  their  rights;  so  long  as  they  have 
not  overcome  them  by  intelligent  thought  and  action; 
and  so  I  descended  into  the  chaos  that  was  tearing  a 
nation  in  two,  and  did  all  I  could  to  make  "confusion 
worse  confused." 

It  was  the  well-meant  mistake  of  my  friend,  Mr. 
Dickens.  Slavery  was  the  crying  sin  of  the  age.  It 
must  be  wiped  out.  It  was  the  religious  duty  of  every 
person  to  use  all  his  power  to  crush  the  monster  of 
iniquity.  All  of  which  was  right  enough.  It  was  only 
the  methods  we  used  that  were  wrong.  Hammer 
and  tongs — fire  and  sword,  instead  of  the  culture  that 
unfolds  man  out  of  the  beast. 

"You,  Helen,11  he  would  say,  "are  a  glorious  writer;11 
(he  really  thought  so, lam  sure;  though  I  knew  quite 
well  that  he  was  not  capable  of  judging  the  literary 
merits  of  any  writings.)     "You  are  a  glorious  writer. 


222  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

God  has  committed  rare  gifts  to  your  keeping  and  yo& 
must  expend  them  in  his  service;  you  must  make  all 
of  your  writings  run  in  the  direction  of  the  emancipa- 
tion of  slavery."  And  then  he  would  unload  his  own 
ideas  upon  me  until  my  vivid,  red-headed  temperament 
caught  fire  and  I  would  write  pages  and  pages  of  stun0 
that  was  tense  and  turgid  with  the  wrongs  of  a  race, 
and  with  the  wrath  that  ought  to  be  awakened  in  its 
defense.  Mr.  Dickens  said  that  such  wrath  was 
divine;  and  I  was  too  young  to  know  that  every  form 
of  wrath  is  a  mistake,  and  can  never  take  the  place  of 
the  calm,  cool  reason  that  has  a  right  to  control  all 
things,  and  whose  mission  it  is  to  guide  without  any 
help  from  either  the  passions  or  emotions. 

My  articles  were  sought  by  the  editor  of  the  one 
anti-slavery  paper  of  the  place  to  whom  Mr.  Dickens 
showed  them.  It  was  a  bold  man  that  dared  publish 
a  word  in  defense  of  the  slave;  but  this  was  not  in 
the  earliest  days  of  agitation  on  the  subject,  or  he 
would  have  been  mobbed,  as  several  others  were.  The 
public  had — at  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing— been 
swayed  to  a  considerable  extent  by  the  still  earlier 
pioneer  in  this  crusade,  and  the  people  were  beginning 
to  think  deeply,  and  in  a  spirit  of  justice.  Neverthe- 
less the  idea  was  not  popular,  and  was  not  respectable. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  223 

This  was  several  years  before  the  war.  It  was  the 
spirit  of  the  war  brewing  for  the  outbreak  that  every 
one  dreaded,  and  that  eventually  came. 

President  Jaques  wisely  prohibited  me  from  reading 
these  compositions  in  the  school,  as  even  the  pub- 
lication of  my  ideas  in  the  paper  was  already  causing 
him  anxiety.  • 

It  had  been  the  habit  of  the  school  to  give  public 
exhibitions  monthly,  at  which  times  our  large  hall 
was  filled  to  overflowing.  By  a  sort  of  unspoken  con- 
sent I  had  been  put  forward  at  these  exhibitions  in  a 
way  to  make  me  a  favorite  with  the  people.  When  at 
last  it  dawned  on  the  Faculty  that — taking  all  things 
into  consideration — I  was  becoming  too  prominent, 
they  made  an  effort  to  keep  me  in  the  back  ground; 
an  effort  the  audiences  resented  by  calling  for  me 
vociferously  and  persistently;  especially  those  who 
knew  how  I  stood  on  the  slavery  question.  It  was 
evident  that  the  people  were  taking  sides  more 
openly  than  they  had  ever  done;  and  the  amount  of 
bitter  hostility  between  the  factions  gathered  strength 
steadily  and  forcefully.  It  looked  as  if  I  had  planted 
a  seed  that  threatened  to  disrupt  the  school.  A  few 
Southern  patrons  had  withdrawn  their  daughters,  and 
others  seemed  inclined  to  do  so.     Nothing  could  have 


224  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

been  worse  for  the  financial  success  of  the  institution, 
and  I  saw  it  and  regretted  that  any  feeling  had  been 
awakened;  for  I  loved  President  Jaques  and  never 
had  a  better  friend.  Many  a  conversation  have  we 
had  on  the  subject,  all  terminating  in  the  belief  that 
neither  I  nor  anyone  was  to  blame;  that  the  curse  of 
an  awful  wrong  was  upon  us,  that  was  justly  pushing 
us  toward  a  catastrophe  which  would  prove  at  once 
our  punishment  and  the  slave's  restitution.  In  the 
meantime  I  refused  to  answer  the  public  demand  to 
appear  at  the  monthly  entertainments,  and  the  time 
rolled  along  to  the  day  of  our  graduation. 

There  were  twenty  of  us  in  the  graduating  class. 
Our  compositions  were  limited  to  a  few  pages,  and 
were  as  jejune  and  insipid  as  such  essays  usually  are. 
All  would  have  passed  off  well  but  for  a  mistake  of 
President  Jaques. 

A  speech  that  was  supposed  to  be  a  sort  of  a  brief 
review  of  the  affairs  of  the  college  during  the  past 
year  was  a  part  of  the  programme.  This  was  delivered 
by  the  President.  In  the  speech  he  referred  to  the 
rumor  that  the  school  was  becoming  tinctured  with 
the  anti-slavery  feeling,  and  denied  that  this  was  true, 
claiming  that  no  faintest  touch  of  political  sentiment 
had  been  permitted  to  enter  into  it  at  all.     A  man — 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  ■!'!■) 

one  of  the  wealthiest  citizens  in  the  place,  and  one  of 
the  haughtiest  social  leaders — rose  impetuously  and 
said  boldly  that  the  statement  of  the  President  was  a 
mistake;  that  the  anti-slavery  sentiment  in  the 
school  was  dominating  everything;  and  the  most 
contemptible  part  of  it  was  that  the  Faculty,  not 
daring  to  shoulder  the  responsibility  of  its  own 
opinions,  had  put  them  forth  through  the  pen  of  a 
gifted  but  misguided  girl — a  member  of  the  present 
graduating  class — Miss  Helen  Wilmans. 

I  must  explain  that  up  to  the  time  of  which  I  am 
writing  one  could  speak  in  favor  of  slavery  with 
impunity;  it  was  only  against  slavery  that  no  word 
was  permitted — so  greatly  did  the  Southern  spirit 
dominate  every  department  of  our  social  life.  The 
voices  of  the  thousands  whose  souls  were  seething  in 
an  almost  uncontrollable  wrath,  that  such  an  institu- 
tion should  be  tolerated  in  a  republic  that  called  itself 
"free,"  were  under  the  compulsion  of  silence.  They 
had  to  hold  themselves  in  check,  and  see  cruelty  and 
injustice  piled  mountain  high  and  capped  with  the 
haughty  insolence  of  a  people  whose  pride  had  been 
fed  by  triumphs  in  congress  and  obsequious  flattery 
from  Northern  compeers,  together  with  the  daily 
incense   that   constituted   the   home  breath  of  their 


226  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

lives,  arising  from  the  fears  incident  to  the  sub- 
jugated manhood  of  a  race.  Government  was  backing 
this  side;  the  anti-slavery  position  was  treasonable. 
Heavens!  what  flames  of  wrath  were  smouldering 
under  that  word  "treasonable." 

After  this  accusation  made  by  one  of  the  most 
influential  men  in  the  state,  President  Jaques'  courage 
must  have  forsaken  him  for  the  time.  He  entered 
into  an  explanation  which  was  surely  an  unwise 
thing.  But  even  this  he  could  have  made  without 
implicating  me;  but  in  his  excitement  and  weakness 
he  blundered  into  an  attempt  to  exonerate  the  college 
at  my  expense. 

He  said  that  from  the  first  he  had  found  it  an 
almost  impossible  thing  either  to  guide  or  repress 
me;  that  I  had  been  utterly  unmanageable.  He 
accused  me  of  ingratitude  towards  the  school,  the 
teachers  and  himself.  And  much  more  to  this 
purpose.  I  sat  behind  him  with  the  other  girls  on 
the  platform  and  heard  it  all,  for  the  first  time.  He 
had  never  given  me  a  hint  of  such  feeling  as  he 
expressed  for  me.  On  the  contrary  he  had  been  my 
best  friend;  a  friend  whose  true  tenderness  and  loving 
pride  in  me  had  shown  in  his  eyes  and  conduct  from 
first  to  last  during  the  two  years  of  my  stay  there.     I 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  227 

had  never  entered  his  presence  in  a  single  instance 
that  his  kind  eyes  did  not  brighten  as  they  caught 
mine.  He  was  proud  of  me  as  a  student;  tender  of 
me  as  if  I  had  been  his  own  sister;  his  appreciative 
laugh  always  responded  to  my  nonsense;  and  never 
once  in  those  years  had  I  received  a  word  or  sign  of 
reproval  from  him.     I  trusted  and  loved  him. 

After  he  had  finished  there  was  a  deep  silence,  and 
then  commotion  and  confusion.  Several  persons  were 
on  their  feet  all  speaking  at  once.  For  my  part  I 
felt  bitterly  wronged.  A  complete  recognition  of  the 
whole  situation  lit  up  my  intellect,  and  1  seemed  to  be 
pure  spirit.  I  stepped  to  the  front  of  the  stage.  The 
wrangling  in  the  audience  ceased,  and  the  most  com- 
plete silence  followed.  I  said,  "If  there  is  no  other 
soul  in  all  the  world  who  dares  lift  voice  in  defense  of 
an  outraged  and  a  cruelly  oppressed  people,  I  dare." 
And  then  I  went  on  in  a  tone  of  voice  that  seemed 
perfectly  level,  only  for  the  slight  tremor  that  showed 
unmistakably  how  every  word  was  quivering  over 
latent  fire;  and  the  fire  burst  forth  presently.  I  did 
not  spare  the  cowardice  of  the  people  nor  the  dastardly 
character  of  the  situation.  I  said  my  say  to  the 
uttermost;  said  it  strongly  but  briefly;  and  then  I 
asked  if  I  was  to  be  excluded  from  my  share  in  a 


228  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

collegiate  education  because  I  would  not  compromise 
with  the  vilest  sin  of  the  age?  President  Jaques  had 
never  expected  it  of  me.  He  had  never  rebuked  me 
for  my  opinions;  I  denied  it  here  in  his  presence,  and 
could  not  reconcile  the  words  he  had  just  spoken  with 
all  his  past  kindness  and  gentleness  to  me.  Why,  he 
was  my  dearest  friend.  I  tried  to  say  "I  loved  him,'1 
but  a  choking  sob  came  in  place  of  the  words,  and  it 
was  answered  by  other  sobs  from  the  audience.  Then 
I  gathered  strength  again  and  said,  uOf  all  the  results 
of  a  disguised  position  the  worst  I  had  ever  witnessed 
had  been  brought  about  to-day,  when  a  man  whose 
heart  was  so  great  and  whose  life  was  so  pure  had 
stood  face  to  face  with  a  sentiment  so  debased  as  to 
weaken  his  manhood  until  he  dared  not  speak  the 
truth." 

Then  I  sat  down,  with  a  swimming  head,  and  can 
scarcely  tell  what  followed.  The  class  song  was  sung 
and  the  diplomas  distributed,  yet  not  for  one  moment 
was  there  anything  but  the  tensest  excitement  among 
the  people.  The  excitement  was  pressed  down,  but  it 
was  there;  and  it  made  one  feel  as  if  he  were  on  the 
verge  of  a  volcano  in  momentary  expectation  of  an 
eruption. 

Hastily  written  notes  were  being  passed  up  to  me 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  229 

from  the  audience,  but  I  could  not  read  them;  I  could 
only  receive  them  and  let  them  fall,  owing  to  the 
nerveless  condition  of  my  hands.  A  girl  near  me 
took  them  and  gave  them  to  me  later.  They  con- 
tained bank  bills  for  various  sums;  and  one  was  a 
fifty-dollar  "slug"  of  California  mintage,  the  first  coin 
of  its  kind  I  ever  saw. 

The  thing  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  I  found  my- 
self in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  where  hundreds  of  people 
were  trying  to  shake  hands  with  me.  But  I  recall 
that  others  stood  apart  and  looked  at  me  malignantly. 
Last  of  all,  and  that  which  left  the  most  indelible 
impression,  was  the  face  of  President  Jaques.  I 
looked  upon  it  with  eyes  out  of  which  the  light  of  all 
happiness  had  departed,  to  find  the  same  deadness  in 
his.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  turned  to  stone.  I 
made  my  way  to  the  door  where  Mr.  Dickens  had  a 
carriage  waiting.  *  I  never  saw  my  beloved  teacher 
again. 

Oh!  the  happy  hours  I  had  spent  with  him;  oh!  the 
rejoicing  I  had  had  in  his  pride  in  me.  Always  he 
would  come  into  the  class  room  like  a  prince,  his  face 
calm  to  coldness;  glancing  round  with  eyes  of  swift 
intelligence,  simply  sweeping  the  group,  his  look 
would  be  arrested  when  it  met  mine,  and  then  his 


230  A    SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

face  would  become  illuminated.  Even  yet  I  think  of 
him  tenderly,  though  his  beautiful  form  has  been 
under  the  sod  for  years  and  years. 

I  recall  one  instance  when  his  hopes  of  my  future 
had  received  reinforcement  from  an  unexpected 
quarter. 

The  occasion  was  this.  The  graduating  class  was 
assembled  in  order  to  recite  a  lesson  in  "Mental 
Science."  This  was  the  name  of  the  text  book.  I 
cannot  recall  the  author,  but  a  shallower  treatise  on 
the  human  mind  and  its  powers  was  never  written. 
The  girls  did  not  pretend  to  study  it,  and,  indeed,  the 
most  of  them  were  very  indifferent  students.  But  I 
had  been  quite  faithful  in  the  matter,  and  it  usually 
devolved  on  me  to  answer  the  most  of  the  questions. 

"Who  knows  this  lesson?"  I  asked,  as  soon  as  I 
entered  the  room. 

"You,  if  anybody,"  said  some  one. 

"I  have  not  even  looked  at  it,"  I  replied. 

uThen  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  our  souls,"  said 
another  girl:  and  we  looked  at  each  other  and  giggled. 
I  had  no  time  to  even  glance  the  lesson  then,  for  the 
door  opened  and  President  Jaques  came  in  and 
another  gentleman  with  him.  The  questions  began 
and   none   of    us  knew   anything.     Mr.   Jaques  was 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  231 

embarrassed.  At  length  he  said  to  me,  "Miss  Wil- 
mans.  it  is  unusual  for  you  to  put  your  teacher  to 
shame  by  such  utter  neglect  as  this." 

I  said,  UI  did  not  think  of  putting  you  to  shame, 
Mr.  Jaques.  My  only  thought  was  that  I  had  had 
enough  of  this  book,  and  did  not  care  to  waste  more 
time  on  it." 

Then  the  strange  gentleman  said,  uSo  you  do  not 
approve  of  the  book;  what  is  the  matter  with  it?" 

As  I  looked  at  him  he  smiled,  and  there  was  my 
mother's  smile  exactly.  Then  I  saw  that  his  features 
were  like  hers,  and  that  in  every  particular  he  might 
have  been  her  twin  brother,  the  resemblance  between 
them  was  so  striking.  My  heart  warmed  towards 
him  instantly,  and  I  did  not  feel  the  least  hesitation 
in  talking  to  him.  I  told  him  there  was  not  a  particle 
of  sense  in  the  book  from  beginning  to  end;  that  the 
author  had  invented  a  theory  and  had  distorted  facts 
to  fit  it.  He  asked  many  questions,  and  T  answered 
them  in  a  way  that  seemed  to  please  him.  His  kind 
eyes  took  on  a  look  of  the  most  genial  interest.  He  got 
out  a  small  note  book  and  put  down  two  or  three 
things  I  said. 

The  hour  ended  and  the  class  was  dismissed.  As 
we  were  passing  out  Mr.  Jaques  made  a  gesture  for 


232  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

me  to  stop.  I  did  so,  standing  close  to  the  quiet — 
almost  plain  looking  man  whose  accidental  re- 
semblance to  my  mother  awakened  so  much  love  in 
me.  When  the  door  closed  I  was  formally  introduced. 
The  name  dazed  me.  Even  then  it  was  wreathed 
with  glory.  I  think  I  turned  pale  when  I  put  out  my 
hand  and  felt  it  clasped  in  that  of  Ralph  Waldo 
Emerson. 

But  he  was  saying  something  earnestly  and  kindly. 
I  would  not  have  missed  hearing  it  for  much.  He 
was  asking  for  my  full  name.  "I  want  it,"  he  saia\, 
''because  the  world  will  ring  with  it  some  day." 

And  it  was  this  endorsement  of  me  that  President 
Jaques  valued  so  greatly. 


CHAPTER  XITI. 


A    BOY    LOVER. 

When  I  saw  for  the  last  time  the  stony,  impassive 
face  of  my  beloved  teacher,  I  was  passing  out  of  the 
college  hall  forever.  There  was  a  carriage  waiting, 
and  with  Kate  and  Mr.  Dickens  I  was  driven  away. 

The  commotion  occasioned  by  the  graduation  ex- 
ercises was  great.  The  town  was  all  excitement.  I 
got  both  praised  and  abused,  and  it  was  kept  up  so 
long  that  for  weeks  T  was  afraid  to  look  through  any 
newspaper  for  fear  of  stumbling  on  my  own  name. 
For  the  circumstances  spread,  and  the  press  reported 
them  and  took  sides. 

Night  after  night  I  was  serenaded;  and  there  were 
songs  and  music  composed  to  fit  the  occasion.  Oh! 
how  tired  T  was  of  it.  I  wanted  to  go  straight  home, 
but  Mr.  Dickens — to  whom  I  was  as  obedient  as  a 
child — would  not  consent.  One  good  thing  for  me 
came  of  all  the  commotion.  I  had  quite  a  little  sum 
of  money  given  me  on  the  day  T  graduated,  and  more 

233 


234  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

had  been  sent  me.  I  began  to  hunt  up  my  store  bills 
in  order  to  pay  them;  but  every  dollar  was  paid,  and  I 
never  knew  who  did  it. 

Some  two  years  previous  to  my  going  to  Jackson- 
ville, my  brother  Gus  had  gone  to  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  to 
attend  a  medical  school.  After  completing  the  course- 
he  went  to  Cedar  Rapids,  Iowa,  and  located.  The 
town  was  then  a  mere  village;  the  whole  state  was 
new;  it  was  almost  the  far  West.  Gus  was  an  exceed- 
ingly attractive  young  man.  He  was  handsome, 
gentlemanly,  modest,  yet  self-centered  and  courageous. 
He  immediately  stepped  into  a  fine  practice.  In  less 
than  a  year  he  had  purchased  one  of  the  best  dwelling 
houses  in  the  place,  and  had  brought  my  mother  and 
the  younger  children  to  him. 

Mother  would  have  been  very  happy  in  these  days 
but  for  my  father's  absence,  which  was  a  constant 
source  of  sorrow  to  her.  It  was  this  feeling  acting 
upon  other  feelings  that  intensified  her  religious 
sentiments,  and  caused  her  to  become  almost  fanatical 
on  the  subject.  When  at  last  I  broke  away  from  the 
influence  of  Mr.  Dickens  and  the  loving  care  of  his 
wife,  and  went  to  my  mother  in  her  new  home,  I  was 
chilled  and  repelled  by  the  atmosphere  that  emanated 
from  her.     Gus  was  used  to  it  and  indifferent  to  it. 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  235 

Lib  was  impervious  to  any  special  influences,  not  be- 
ing a  thinker  at  all,  and  having  taken  mother's 
advice  and  joined  the  church,  after  which  she  sank 
into  the  lethargy  of  considering  herself  all  right. 

Emma  was  just  about  grown,  and  she  certainly  was 
very  beautiful  and  lovely;  and  the  other  little  girls, 
Julia  and  Clem,  were  sweet  children.  But  it  was  the 
deadest  household  I  ever  saw.  I  began  to  wonder 
how  I  should  live  there  long.  I  resolved  that  I  would 
not  do  so,  and  began  to  hunt  for  a  situation  where  I 
could  teach.  I  at  length  had  an  offer  from  an 
academy  at  Griggsville,  111.  This  place  was  not  far 
from  Jacksonville.  I  accepted  it  and  agreed  to  be 
there  at  the  opening  of  the  next  term,  some  two 
months  away. 

The  deadness  of  our  household  atmosphere  was 
something  so  palpable  I  cannot  see  how  any  person 
could  fail  to  notice  it.  Gus  was  changed.  Lloyd  and 
Ivens  had  learned  the  printer's  trade  before  this,  and 
had  situations  far  from  home,  so  that  I  did  not  see 
them  at  all  on  this  visit. 

What  change  had  taken  place  in  me  I  do  not  know; 
for  I  am  sure  that  I  had  changed  quite  as  much  as 
any  of  the  other  members  of  the  family.  I  was  no 
longer  one  of  them.     They  did  not  seem  to  know  me, 


236  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

and  had  no  particular  interest  in  me.  Emma  was 
kept  in  the  kitchen  the  most  of  the  time,  and  1  pitied 
her.  The  two  little  ones  were  found  of  evenings  out 
on  the  doorsteps  silently  watching  the  stars,  their 
little  souls  in  a  strange  maze  of  ignorance.  I  dis- 
covered that  they  had  not  the  faintest  idea  of 
astronomy,  and  so  I  began  to  sit  there  with  them  and 
teach  them  what  I  knew.  But  do  what  I  would  the 
cloud  I  have  spoken  of  never  lifted.  Mother  held 
family  prayers  morning  and  evening,  and  practiced  all 
the  religious  exercises  in  vogue;  and  I  was  used  to  it 
and  thought  it  all  right,  and  would  not  have  been 
satisfied  without  it;  but  there  was  an  undercurrent  of 
something  somewhere  that  seemed  to  be  insidiously 
stealing  my  vitality,  until  T  became  so  weak  I  could 
scarcely  climb  the  stairs  in  doing  the  housework. 

What  other  influences  may  have  aided  in  producing 
my  condition  I  cannot  tell;  but  it  was  one  of  the 
great  cholera  years.  In  the  cities  people  were  dying 
fast,  and  a  widespread  epidemic  of  fear  was  in  the 
country. 

One  morning  early  I  dressed  and  went  down  to  the 
basement  kitchen  to  help  Emma,  who  seemed  to  be 
chief  household  servant.  There  was  a  bed  room 
opening  off  the  common  sitting  room,  and  it  was  here 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  237 

my  mother  slept.  The  door  was  open  and  I  looked  in. 
The  room  was  in  the  greatest  disorder.  Mother  tried 
to  speak  to  me,  but  could  not  do  so  except  with  her 
eyes,  from  which  her  whole  soul  looked.  I  have 
never  seen  so  much  expression  in  any  other  eyes,  no, 
never  in  all  my  life. 

She  had  been  stricken  down  with  cholera  so  sud- 
denly that  it  had  been  impossible  for  her  to  let  us, 
who  slept  on  the  floor  above,  know  her  condition. 
Emma -had  passed  the  open  door  of  the  room  only  a 
few  minutes  before,  but  had  not  thought  to  look  in. 
I  aroused  the  household  and  in  a  short  time  every 
doctor  in  town  was  there.  It  was  too  late.  She 
lingered  a  few  hours  and  died. 

The  one  thing  that  haunted  me  for  years  concern- 
ing her  death  was  the  look  with  which  she  followed 
me  wherever  I  went.  If  I  passed  beyond  her  range  of 
vision  her  eyes  were  strained  in  my  direction  until  I 
came  again  within  it.  What  did  she  want  to  say?  I 
thought  she  wished  me  to  promise  that  I  would  not 
desert  the  children.  I  put  my  arms  around  little 
Clem  and  looked  at  her.  A  light  broke  over  her  face; 
I  was  never  to  desert  that  child;  and  I  never  did. 

She  had  no  sooner  found  that  I  understood  her  than 
her  eyes  wandered  to  the  other  faces.      Gus  asked  her 


238  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

if  she  was  willing  to  go,  and  she  nodded  and  smiled 
yes;  and  in  another  moment  she  was  gone.  Fourteen 
other  persons  lay  dead  of  cholera  in  the  town  that 
same  day. 

My  mother's  death  was  an  awful  shock.  She  lay 
there  with  her  dimpled  white  hands  and  her  youthful 
face — for  she  was  little  more  than  a  child  when  I  was 
born — and  at  her  death  was  less  than  forty  years  old, 
plump  and  strong  and  fair,  with  a  face  as  unbroken 
as  a  girl's;  and  I  could  not  bear  it.  It  seemed  as  if  I 
could  never  breathe  again.  I  fell  like  one  smitten 
with  paralysis;  and  though  I  did  not  lose  conscious- 
ness I  lost  all  power  of  motion  for  a  day  and  night, 
and  was  weeks  in  regaining  it  perfectly. 

My  mother's  death  compelled  me  to  change  my 
plans  somewhat.  I  would  not  relinquish  my  intention 
of  teaching,  but  I  could  not  get  my  consent  to  leave 
Emma  in  the  house  that  I  was  leaving,  she  was  so 
lovely  and  so  willing  to  submit  to  any  work  that 
might  be  put  upon  her.  I  knew  that  if  I  should  take 
her  that  a  servant  would  be  provided  to  do  the  work, 
for  Lib  had  never  been  strong  enough  to  do  it.  At 
the  same  time  I  was  not  afraid  to  leave  the  two  little 
girls,  who  had  now  entered  school  and  seemed  much 
happier  than  before. 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  239 

So  I  took  my  pretty  sister  and  started  on  a  long 
journey — made  longer  by  being  performed  partly  by 
stage,  though  principally  by  steamer;  and  we  soon 
found  ourselves  back  under  the  roof  of  my  good 
friend,  Mr.  Dickens.  We  were  only  here  a  few  days, 
when  we  went  to  Griggsville,  where  my  school  was 
ready  to  open. 

Mr.  Dickens'  family  were  as  loving  and  hilarious  as 
ever,  and  I  was  immediately  inducted  into  the  atmos- 
phere of  nonsense  that  pervaded  the  group  in  spite  of  the 
ever  present  attempt  to  keep  things  down  to  the  level 
of  proper  religious  solemnity.  Really  religion  was  a 
farce  in  this  family;  there  was  too  much  human 
nature  about  them  for  this  false  thing  to  cover  it  up; 
they  were  too  big  for  so  flimsy  a  cloak,  and  too 
intrinsically  good  to  be  concealed  by  it.  It  was  their 
native  goodness  which  they  mistook  for  religion. 

The  next  morning  after  we  got  there  we  had  family 
prayers  as  usual.  The  morning  had  been  chilly  and 
a  few  sticks  were  burning  in  the  old-fashioned  fire 
place.  The  cat  I  had  known  so  well  in  the  previous 
years  was  occupying  the  choicest  corner,  big  and  fat 
and  trifling,  but  a  veritable  aristocrat  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  he  looked  as  if  he  had  been  through  a 
threshing  machine,  as  a  result  of  his  dissipated  life 


240  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

and  his  many  combats.  His  ears  had  entirely  de- 
parted; one  eye  was  permanently  half  closed  and  he 
seemed  to  be  winking  at  whomsoever  he  looked, 
sardonically  and  wickedly.  The  children  got  out  of 
his  way  when  he  manifested  an  intention  of  occupy- 
ing their  places,  and  he  would  take  possession  of  the 
vacated  seats  as  if  they  were  his  by  inalienable  right. 
What  was  more,  he  would  not  stand  any  nonsense 
from  them.  He  seemed  to  know  perfectly  when  they 
were  making  fun  of  him;  and  as  to  practical  joking 
he  had  taught  them  that  such  a  thing  was  not  to  be 
thought  of  in  connection  with  his  majesty. 

A  right  surly,  ugly,  defiant  old  autocrat  he  was; 
and  more  than  once  during  prayers  something  had 
happened  to  roil  his  temper  and  put  him  in  a  quarrel- 
some mood. 

On  this  particular  morning  I  think  the  small  boys, 
Benny  and  Jim,  were  anxious  to  display  his  peculiar- 
ities to  Emma,  who  was  unacquainted  with  them. 
The  little  fellows  were  barefooted  even  though  the 
morning  was  chilly.  We  were  all  kneeling  down, 
and  I  was  so  placed  that  I  could  see  what  the  boys 
were  doing.  Jim  glanced  behind  him  where  the  cat 
was  lying  on  the  hearth  and  moved  his  big  toe — very 
gently  at  first — but  not  so  gently  that  the  cat  failed 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  241 

to  see  it.  He  opened  one  eye  a  little  wider  and  began 
to  watch.  Jim  returned  to  his  prayers,  but  presently 
moved  his  toe  a  trifle  more  aggressively.  The  cat — 
his  name  was  Moses — became  alert;  he  sat  up  and 
fastened  one  villainous  eye  on  Jim's  toe.  Jim  put  his 
head  down  low  on  the  chair  as  he  continued  his 
devotions.  It  was  not  possible  to  remain  in  this 
condition  long,  in  ignorance  of  what  was  going  on 
behind  him,  so  he  raised  his  arm  and  took  a  look  at 
Moses  from  under  that  shelter.  Moses  knew  now 
that  an  insult  was  brewing,  for  he  met  Jim's  eye  with 
a  resolute  look,  and  opened  his  mouth  in  a  soundless 
but  wicked  mew. 

Instantly  Jim  became  as  one  petrified,  and  remained 
in  this  state  so  long  that  Moses  concluded  he  had 
been  mistaken  in  the  boy's  intentions  and  was  prepar- 
ing to  lie  down  again,  when  once  more  Jim  wiggled 
his  toe  violently,  aggressively,  tauntingly.  Then 
Moses  split  the  air  with  as  wicked  a  yell  as  I  ever 
heard;  not  a  plain,  go-ahead  yell,  but  a  complicated, 
purposeful  yell  that  quavered  up  and  down  the  gamut, 
challenging  every  person  in  the  room  to  trot  out  his  or 
her  secret  intentions  towards  him  and  walk  up  to  a  set- 
tlement. Every  hair  on  his  ugly  body  was  on  end  as 
he  lashed  his  tail — still  continuing  his  caterwaul  with 


242  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

increasing  vengeance  and  an  ever  changing  diversity 
of  tone. 

Mr.  Dickens  suspended  his  praying  and  looked 
around.  Every  person  in  the  room  looked  around 
except  Jim,  who  prayed  on  with  unexampled  in- 
tentness. 

"James,"  said  Mr.  Dickens. 

"Did  you  speak  to  me,  pa?11 

"Yes,  I  spoke  to  you;  what  have  you  been  doing  to 
Moses?" 

Why,  pa,  I  ain't  done  nothin';  sure  as  you're  born 
I  ain't;  I'll  cross  my  heart  I  haven't  touched  him." 

"James,  perhaps  you  think  I  am  unacquainted  with 
the  characteristics  of  that  cat;  perhaps  you  think  I 
am  unaware  of  the  fact  that  it  is  not  necessary  to 
touch  him  in  order  to  arouse  his  temper.  Whatever 
may  have  been  the  cause  of  this  present  outbreak,  my 
son,  and  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  you  know  what 
it  is,  I  now  warn  you  that  it  must  not  occur  again 
during  this  present  season  of  prayer,  which  we  will 
now  continue." 

Moses,  who  knew  perfectly  well  that  his  rights 
were  being  defended,  now  lay  down,  but  in  a  very 
wide-awake  condition,  and  still  growling  in  under- 
tones.    Mr.  Dickens  prayed  away  to  this  accompani- 


A   8EARCH   FOR    FREEDOM.  243 

ment;  and  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  heard  anything 
funnier  than  the  mumbled  threats  of  Moses  and  the 
variety  of  tones  he  managed  to  express  in  a  rather  low, 
but  distinct  voice,  as  the  exercises  proceeded  to  a  close. 

When  we  arose  from  our  knees  and  became  seated 
Moses  got  up  also.  Evidently  he  was  afraid  his 
temper  would  cool,  and  kept  coaxing  it  along  on 
imaginary  insults.  He  watched  Jim  closely;  Jim  sat 
huddled  up  in  a  rocking  chair  with  his  feet  under 
him.  Mrs.  Dickens  announced  breakfast,  and  we  all 
started  toward  the  dining  room.  No  sooner  had  Jim's 
bare  feet  touched  the  floor  than  Moses  sprang  upon 
them  like  a  tiger,  his  fur  on  end,  his  claws  unsheathed 
as  with  frantic  movements  he  tore  away  at  the  little 
fellow's  unprotected  flesh.  Jim's  nimbleness  saved 
him  from  serious  damage,  but  it  was  hours  before 
Moses  was  sufficiently  quieted  to  go  to  sleep  on  his 
favorite  mat  in  the  chimney  corner;  and  although 
Jim  denied  the  impeachment,  it  was  a  long  time 
before  he  "winked  his  toe"  at  the  old  savage  again. 

A  few  days  later  Emma  and  I  were  in  Griggsville 
at  uPap  Wageley's"  hotel,  where  we  remained  a  few 
days  before  we  found  a  private  boarding  house  to  suit 
us;  after  which  the  school  in  which  I  was  to  teach 
opened,  and  I  began  my  duties. 


244  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

Oh,  the  stupidity  of  the  situation!  I  did  not  want 
to  teach,  but  it  was  teach  or  starve.  And  I  was  lone- 
some; I  had  been  lonesome  for  such  a  long  time. 
Emma  was  the  only  creature  on  earth  who  drew  my 
heart  out  in  affection.  I  hardly  know  what  this  con- 
dition meant.  One  thing  certain,  the  cloud  that  was 
over  me  seemed  very  heavy  and  impenetrable.  Re- 
ligion was  not  troubling  me  much.  I  was  quite 
devout  and  had  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  in  my  devo- 
tions. My  salary  was  small,  but  enough  to  satisfy  my 
wants.  I  had  lost  the  desire  for  fine  clothes  for 
myself,  but  loved  to  see  Emma  dressed.  It  was  the 
one  spark  of  interest  left  in  me — the  pride  I  had  in 
this  young  girl.  She  was  so  exquisitely  beautiful 
that  her  presence  created   a  sensation   wherever  she 

appeared.     She  began  to  make  acqaintances;  first  of 

i 
school  girls  of  her  own  age,  and  soon   after,  of  their 

brothers  and  friends.  Of  evenings  she  filled  the 
parlors  with  her  company.  Mrs.  Kneeland,  our  land- 
lady, was  as  much  interested  in  Emma's  visitors  as 
Emma  was,  and  assisted  in  entertaining  them. 
Emma's  contributions  to  social  life  consisted  in  being 
beautiful,  and  in  laughing  musically,  and  in  listening 
with  the  sweetest  and  most  genial  interest  to  those 
who  were  willing  to  do  the  talking.     Old  and  young 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  2 1~> 

worshiped  her;  and  before  our  year  in  that  place  was 
out  I  firmly  believe  she  had  twenty  offers  of  marriage 
from  young  men,  middle-aged  men,  old  men  and  boys. 

She  was  unwilling  to  go  down  into  the  parlors  of 
an  evening  without  me,  and  so  I  was  often  with  her 
there,  trying  my  best  to  add  to  her  happiness  in  every 
way  I  could.  I  do  not  know  why  it  did  not  occur  to 
me  to  marry  Emma  to  some  one  of  her  eligible 
suitors,  and  thus  provide  a  home  for  her  as  well  as  my- 
self; but  I  did  not  seem  to  think  of  it,  though  I 
despised  to  have  to  earn  my  living  by  teaching,  and 
it  was  the  only  thing  I  could  do.  I  cannot  recall 
what  kind  of  ideas  I  had  about  marriage  in  those 
days.  I  am  sure  I  had  not  gotten  over  the  belief  born 
in  me  that  marriage  was  the  only  hope  life  held  out  to 
any  woman;  neither  was  I  forgetful  of  the  fact  that 
time  was  slipping  along  with  me,  and  that  I  was  be- 
ginning to  be  considered  Emma's  "old-maid"  sister.  I 
must  have  been  between  twenty-three  and  twenty-four. 

As  the  days  went  on,  Emma  and  I  seemed  to 
become  very  popular.  The  best  people  in  the  place, 
young  and  old,  visited  us;  invitations  were  showered 
upon  us,  and  every  available  moment  we  could 
spare — I  from  my  school  duties  and  Emma  from  her 
studies — was  filled  with  social  pleasures. 


246  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

From  the  first  evening  I  spent  in  helping  "Em" 
entertain  her  "cubs,'1  my  attention  had  been  arrested 
by  a  young  medical  student,  of  whom  I  often  spoke 
to  Mrs.  Kneeland  as  the  one  I  would  rather  see 
attached  to  Emma  than  any  of  the  others.  He  had  a 
fine  pair  of  expressive  dark  eyes,  and  was  otherwise 
attractive  personally;  but  the  thing  which  pleased  me 
most  was  the  quickness  of  his  wit.  Turning  his 
gentle,  but  always  brilliani  face  toward  one  who  was 
talking  with  him,  he  had  power  to  apprehend  every 
shade  of  thought  that  arose  in  the  person's  mind;  and 
nothing  could  have  been  more  charming  than  his 
responsiveness.  Then,  too,  he  had  been  a  great 
student  in  his  college  and  was  master  of  the  language. 
I  never  have  known  anyone  who  always  used  the 
right  word  in  the  right  place  with  such  unerring 
results  as  he  did.  And  he  was  witty  beyond  any 
person  I  had  seen  then.  How  he  did  make  me  laugh, 
and  how  he  enjoyed  his  power  to  do  so!  enjoyed  it  the 
more  because  so  few  had  this  power;  for — as  I  have 
said — I  was  under  a  cloud  at  the  time  that  deadened  me 
all  over  except  in  my  love  for  this  sweet  sister  of  mine. 

But  I  acknowledged  the  many  attractions  of  this 
young  man,  and  began  to  weave  a  romance  for  him 
and  Emma.     I  was  pleased  to  see  him  watch  her  as  he 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  247 

was  sitting  by  me,  and  to  hear  him  laugh  with  her; 
for  she  had  the  kind  of  laugh  that  brings  a  re- 
sponsive laugh  from  others,  whether  there  is  anything 
to  laugh  at  or  not.  He  often  spoke  of  her  beauty; 
and  on  occasions  when  he  had  gone  rather  long  with- 
out speaking  of  it,  I  would  speak  of  it  to  him. 

Another  season  at  the  medical  school,  and  he  would 
graduate.  Then  his  future  was  sure;  at  least,  I 
thought  so.  He  was  undoubtedly  intellectual,  and 
his  family  connections  were  of  the  most  desirable. 
What  could  hinder  him  from  making  Emma  an  ex- 
cellent husband,  after  he  had  become  fully  equipped 
for  the  practice  of  medicine?  He  was  in  his  twenty- 
second  year,  two  years  younger  than  I  was,  and  seven 
years  older  than  Emma. 

When  Emma  and  I  were  alone  she  talked  to  me  of 
her  friends,  both  boys  and  girls,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
she  was  about  equally  interested  in  all  of  them;  no 
more  in  love  with  this  favorite  of  mine  than  with  any 
of  the  others.  I  sometimes  said  to  her,  "Why,  Emma, 
don't  you  see  that  Harry  W'ashburn  is  the  superior  of 
the  whole  crowd?"  To  which  she  would  give  a  cold, 
indifferent  affirmative,  or  no  answer  at  all.  And  so 
things  slipped  along;  but  never  a  day  passed  in  which 
I  failed  to  add  something  to  the  air  castle  I  was  build- 


248  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

ing  for  Harry  Washburn  and  Emma.  Six  months 
passed  and  I  was  still  building.  He  was  the  darlingest, 
sweetest  boy  on  earth;  he  was  the  only  person  in  the 
world  good  enough  and  brilliant  enough  for  my  lovely 
little  pet  sister.     But  he  did  not  declare  himself. 

One  night  he  called,  and  Emma  was  gone;  everybody 
was  gone.  I  felt  his  disappointment  and  told  him  so 
before  I  offered  him  a  seat.  He  looked  at  me  with  a 
kind  of  impatient  despair  in  his  eyes;  he  waited  a  mo- 
ment and  I  could  feel  the  gathering  of  resolution  in 
him  until  the  atmosphere  vibrated  with  a  force  that 
was  new  to  me.     He  crossed  the  room  to  the  lounge. 

uCome  here,  Miss  Wilmans,"  he  said,  "I  want  to 
see  you,  and  I  am  glad  that  Emma  is  out.  Now,  tell 
me,  if  you  please,  whether  or  not  you  have  a  separate 
existence  from  that  little  sister  of  yours,  or  if  you  are 
simply  the  tail  to  her  kite  and  expect  to  remain  so  all 
your  life?" 

I  answered  truly  that  I  had  not  the  least  idea  what 
he  was  talking  about. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  understand 
me;  and  my  actions  have  been  plain  enough.  There 
are  none  so  blind  as  those  who  won't  see." 

"But,  Harry,  I  think  I  have  seen  all  along.  Now 
speak  out;  for  nothing  but  words  will  clinch  matters 
when  they  come  to  a  climax." 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  249 

"Yes  I  will  speak  out.  I  love  you,  Miss  Wilmans, 
and  I  never  loved  another  girl  in  my  life.  I  saw  your 
sister  first,  and  was  drawn  into  her  train  by  her 
wonderful  beauty.  [  had  spent  several  evenings 
with  her  before  I  met  you.  I  tried  to  reason  my- 
self into  believing  I  was  in  love  with  her;  I  asked 
myself  how  it  was  possible  not  to  be  in  love  with  her; 
but  my  self-questioning  was  knocked  into  the  middle 
of  next  year  the  very  first  time  [  saw  you.  When  I 
went  home  from  here  that  night  lI  walked  on 
thrones.'  I  had  never  known  what  life  was  before. 
I  was  alive  for  the  first  time.  And  what  am  I  to 
think  of  the  fact  that  you  have  never  seen  it,  never 
even  dreamed  of  what  I  was  feeling?  If  affection 
like  mine  can  exist  and  awaken  no  response,  I  want 
to  know  what  you  are  made  of?  There  is  not  a  guest 
that  frequents  this  house  who  does  not  know  it. 
The  very  walls  and  furniture  of  these  rooms  are  per- 
meated with  the  fact,  and  if  an  essence  could  be 
extracted  from  them,  as  it  is  extracted  from  roses,  it 
would  be  pure  attar  of  love." 

Oh!  the  glow  of  the  boy's  eyes;  and  the  extrava- 
gance of  his  language  as — driven  by  his  impetuosity — 
he  poured  out  the  liquid  fire  of  his  young  passion 
upon  me.     Yet,  all  the  time,  mingled  with  his  con- 


250  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

fession — there  ran  a  thread  of  reproach  because  I 
had  not  known;  and  in  some  insidious  way  he  made 
me  feel  that  in  comparison  with  him  I  was  nothing 
but  a  lump  of  putty.  He  did  not  mean  to  do  this, 
but  he  did  it.  He  sat  there  on  the  lounge  quite  apart 
from  me;  his  attitude  was  calm,  but  I  could  see  that 
his  muscles  were  vibrant  with  positiveness.  The 
brilliancy  of  his  dark  eyes  was  gloomed  over  as  if 
under  a  cloud,  and  the  baleful  gleams  that  broke 
through  the  shadows  tore  their  way  through  my 
sympathies  and  pained  me  intensely. 

But  there  was  more  than  sympathy  in  my  feelings 
as  I  continued  to  listen.  Slowly  and  by  almost  imper- 
ceptible degrees,  the  very  atoms  of  my  body  became 
winged,  and  arose  trembling  beneath  the  force  of  his 
words.  Yes,  trembling  and  poised,  ready  to  meet  the 
touch  of  his  lips,  the  clasp  of  his  arms. 

But  he  did  not  know  this.  Filled  with  disappoint- 
ment because  I  had  assigned  him  to  Emma,  he  could 
not  imagine  the  rapid  transference  in  my  mind  from 
her  to  me,  and  he  went  away  with  his  head  bowed  and 
with  tears  in  his  eyes;  but  with  a  step  as  firm  and  a 
manner  as  manly  as  ever;  yes,  more  so;  for  that  night 
was  the  first  time  I  had  particularly  observed  the  self- 
poise  of  his  beautiful  body,  and  the  splendid  dignity 
of  his  carriage. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


One  cannot  always  be  writing  love  scenes,  and  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  hasten  on  with  this  narrative  and 
leave  the  readers  to  guess  the  outcome.  They  already 
know  that  I  did  not  marry  my  boy  lover;  but  they 
cannot  know  what  an  awakening  of  the  emotional 
nature  it  was  for  me,  nor  how  it  literally  tore  my  soul 
in  pieces,  and  darkened  my  life  for  years  after. 

The  emotional  nature  is  the  torture  chamber  of  the 
human  organism.  That  is,  it  is  the  torture  chamber 
to  one  who  lives  in  it.  It  is  an  essential  part  of  the 
human  being;  it  is  that  part  which  generates  warmth, 
passion,  but  it  will  not  do  for  this  part  to  dominate 
the  intellect.  Its  true  function  is  to  furnish  motive 
power — steam — for  the  intellect,  but  it  is  not  the 
home  of  the  intellect,  nor  the  master  of  it,  but  its 
servant  and  slave. 

And  yet  we  live  in  this  part  of  ourselves  when  we 
are  young,  and  it  tortures  us  while  it  governs  us;  and, 
indeed,  under  the  law  of  growth,  every  atom  of  it  is 

251 


252  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

in  conspiracy  with  every  other  atom  to  force  us  to 
move  forward  to  the  upper  story  of  pure  reason,  and 
leave  the  steam-generating  department  to  its  legiti- 
mate business  of  furnishing  force  for  the  brain. 

It  was  several  days  before  I  saw  Harry  again.  In 
the  meantime  I  was  in  such  a  strain  of  anxiety  that 
the  action  of  my  heart  ran  down  below  zero.  Every 
thought  I  could  generate  flowed  toward  him,  until  I 
was  in  a  condition  of  depletion  bordering  on  collapse. 

The  interpretation  of  the  above  paragraph  is — that 
I  was  "fearf ully'1  in  love.  I  had  given  myself  away 
completely.  This  is  what  being  in  love  means  to  a 
person  who  has  been  through  the  experience  and 
comes  out  of  it  with  enough  intelligence  left  to 
reason  on  the  situation  with  any  degree  of  correctness. 

Being  in  love  is  nothing  less  than  the  temporary 
abandonment  of  self;  the  merging  of  the  self  in 
another;  and  anything  more  distressing  than  it  is 
while  it  lasts — taking  into  consideration  its  anxieties 
as  they  alternate  with  its  hopes — I  can  get  no  con- 
ception of.  The  sudden  transitions  from  heaven  to 
hell,  the  rapidity  of  the  ascents  and  descents,  were  too 
much  for  my  patient  endurance;  and  even  while  I 
was  enslaved  by  the  feeling,  I  resented  its  tyranny, 
though  I  did  not  or  could  not  free  myself  from  it. 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  253 

I  recognized  even  then  that  it  was  a  condition  which 
darkened,  instead  of  illuminating  the  intelligence;  a 
condition  that  rendered  cool,  calm,  sensible  judgment 
impossible — thus  making  marriage — the  one  institu- 
tion founded  upon  it — the  most  uncertain  venture 
that  men  and  women  can  undertake. 

Why,  what  is  it  but  a  fever  of  the  blood,  which 
burns  itself  out  in  time,  leaving  too  often  nothing  but 
ashes?  What  is  it  but  a  mighty  stimulant  which, 
like  other  stimulants,  first  lifts  to  the  seventh  heaven 
of  happiness,  and  then  prostrates  to  the  lowest  depths 
in  reaction? 

Nevertheless  the  belief  in  it  is  widespread  as  the 
race,  and  I  hardly  dare  write  my  convictions  concern- 
ing it.  Nine-tenths  of  all  the  literature  in  the  world 
are  founded  in  a  belief — not  only  of  the  power  of  this 
mighty  emotion  to  rule  mankind,  but  of  its  right  to 
do  so.  Millions  of  unsophisticated  souls  are  ready  to 
shout  a  negation  to  every  word  I  can  say  against  it; 
though,  indeed,  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  it  in  it- 
self, since  it  is  a  part  of  the  human  organism  that  can- 
not be  dispensed  with;  but  I  have  much  to  say  against 
the  position  assigned  it  as  ruler  in  the  affairs  of  life. 
It  is  a  usurper.  The  intellect  is,  or  should  be,  mas- 
ter, and  the  love  nature  should  be  subordinate  to  it. 


254  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

Otherwise  it  runs  away  with  us  and  makes  fools  of  us. 
I  do  not  expect  to  convince  many  persons  of  the 
folly  of  being  governed  by  the  emotions.  The  race  is 
young  yet,  and  it  has  not  suffered  enough  to  believe 
what  I  am  saying;  or  rather,  perhaps,  the  experiences 
derived  from  the  emotions  are  too  seductive  in  spite 
of  their  painfulness  to  cause  people  to  investigate 
their  true  office  in  the  human  body  and  to  subordinate 
them  to  their  proper  place.  But  I  shall  give  some- 
thing of  my  own  experience;  and  if  there  happens  to 
be  even  a  small  number  among  my  readers,  who 
are  able  to  take  the  hint  and  forever  refuse  to 
be  enslaved  by  so  brainless  a  thing  as  the  emotion 
which  is  well  described  when  spoken  of  as  the  con- 
dition of  having  "fallen  in  love,"  then  I  shall  have 
done  some  good;  while  at  the  same  time  it  need  not 
destroy  the  faith  of  thousands  of  its  victims  who  are 
not  ready  to  break  their  allegiance  to  it. 

It  is  the  truth  that  after  four  or  five  days  of  tbis 
life  outflow  towards  Harry,  I  was  not  only  weakened 
physically  all  over,  but  mentally  also.  I  am  sure  of 
it,  because  the  strong,  self-poised  expression  of  my 
face  had  degenerated  into  one  of  almost  maudlin 
idiocy.  What  is  there  in  life  to  compensate  for  such 
complete  loss  of  the  self  as  this?      Does  the  owner- 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  255 

ship  of  another,  as  in  marriage,  do  it?  No,  it  does 
not;  but  this  ownership  kills  it,  and  releases  the  brain 
to  its  normal  action  again;  and  this  is  the  best  thing 
l  can  say  of  marriage.    It  is  the  death  of  emotional  love. 

But  because  I  did  not  marry  my  boy  lover,  the 
cords  of  my  affections  reaching  out  to  him  were  not 
broken  for  years  and  years  after  we  had  parted. 

It  was  on  the  fifth  evening  after  he  had  declared 
his  love  for  me,  and  I  was  constantly  absorbed  in  the 
thought  of  another  visit  from  him,  when  I  heard  the 
tinkle  of  a  guitar  beneath  my  window.  I  was  leaning 
out  of  this  window  in  the  most  lackadaisical  attitude 
when  the  sound  reached  me.  The  night  was  as  dark 
as  pitch,  and  the  weather  was  at  its  hottest.  My  room 
was  dark  also  except  for  the  faint  glimmer  of  a  small 
lamp  in  the  adjoining  hall.  Presently  he  sang,  and  I 
recognized  his  voice.  It  was  not  a  remarkable  voice 
for  singing,  though  its  conversational  tone  was  manly 
and  strong;  a  deep,  rich  bass,  whose  power  I  had  not 
known  until  I  heard  it  break — for  a  moment  only — into 
almost  a  sob  that  night  in  which  he  spoke  of  his  love. 

It  was  Harry  again  after  the  lapse  of  ages — to  me. 
It  was  light  after  almost  interminable  darkness.  He 
sang  that  old  song — new  then: 

11  Tis  but  an  hour  since  first  we  met, 
Another  and  our  barks  may  sever." 


256  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

The  words  were  unwisely  chosen  and  filled  me 
with  pain.  If  the  crack  of  doom  had  rent  the  air  it 
could  not  have  startled  my  quivering  heart  more 
terribly.  What  an  extravagant  young  fool  I  was! 
The  idea  of  parting  forever  after  having  once  met 
him  was  death. 

The  song  finished  I  think  he  moved  away.  My 
heart  turned  to  palpable  lead  within  my  breast.  My 
head  fell  on  my  arms  as  they  rested  on  the  casement. 
I  must  have  been  near  fainting,  for  I  did  not  hear  him 
return;  but  I  heard  the  guitar  again,   and  then  these 

words: 

"I  know  an  eye  so  softly  bright, 
That  glistens  like  a  star  at  night; 

My  soul  it  draws  with  glances  kind, 

To  heaven's  blue  vault,  and  there  I  find 
Another  star  as  pure  and  clear 
As  that  which  mildly  sparkles  here. 

Beloved  eye,  beloved  star, 

Thou  art  so  near  and  yet  so  far. 
If  closed  at  last  that  radiant  eye  should  be, 
No  more  the  day  will  dawn  for  me ; 

If  night  should  dim  its  laughing  light 

Oh !  then  forever,  ever  'twill  be  night. 
Those  eyes  that  brightly,  softly  shine 
For  me  the  sun  and  moon  combine ! 

Beloved  eye,  beloved  star, 

Thou  art  so  near  and  yet  so  far." 

As  this  last  song  was  proceeding,  it  came  to  me 
that  I  had  not  given  him  a  word  of  encouragement 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  257 

on  that  last  evening,  though  I  had  so  longed  to  do  it; 
and  that  he  was  really  in  a  very  hopeless  state.  This 
view  of  the  matter  toned  me  up  to  my  normal  con- 
dition, and  made  me  decide  that  my  best  plan  would 
be  to  strengthen  his  courage  in  pursuit  of  my 
affections. 

I  found  myself  laughing;  for  with  the  thought  of 
strengthening  his  courage,  I  caught  sight,  in  imagina- 
tion, of  little  Em  as  I  had  seen  her  a  week  before, 
sitting  on  the  piano  stool  and  telling  an  anecdote  that 
was  meant  to  have  some  reference  to  me  as  I  had 
appeared  in  a  game  of  ball  that  day. 

It  was  about  a  woman  who  lived  at  Cape  Cod,  where 
the  wind  blows  pretty  much  all  the  time,  and  where 
from  the  occupation  of  the  people  as  fishermen,  the 
children  knew  many  nautical  phrases  and  the  correct 
way  of  applying  them. 

This  particular  woman,  who  was  very  fat,  Em 
assured  us,  "even  fatter  than  Helen,'1  had  a  son  Bill 
that  she  was  in  the  habit  of  correcting  provided  she 
could  catch  him.  One  day  Bill  had  committed  some 
outrage,  and  ran  through  the  open  door  and  down 
the  beach  for  dear  life,  with  his  mother  in  full  chase, 
and  rapidly  gaining  on  him  under  the  favoring  cir- 
cumstances of  full  sail  and  the  wind  behind  her. 


258  a  Search  for  freedom. 

Another  urchin  standing  near,  perceiving  how  the 
matter  was  going,  roared  out,  "Try  her  on  the  wind, 
Bill."  No  sooner  said  than  done.  Bill  swung  his 
small  craft  around,  and  sailed  into  the  very  teeth  of 
the  gale,  while  his  mother  went  to  leeward  like  a  log. 

Laughing  quite  like  my  old  self,  I  leaned  out  of  the 
window  as  the  song  ceased  and  said, 

"Harry,  do  you  remember  that  anecdote  Emma  told 
the  other  evening?" 

"No,  I  don't." 

"I  do.  The  gist  of  it  was,  'Try  her  on  the  wind, 
Bill.'" 

There  was  a  momentary  silence,  and  then  Harry 
spoke  again  manfully,  peremptorily,  yet  with  a  laugh 
in  his  tones. 

"You  come  down  here,  Miss  Wilmans,  immediately 
if  not  sooner." 

"And  you  go  to  the  parlors,  Harry,  and  light  up." 

And  oh!  what  an  evening  that  was.  Emma  was 
away  and  we  two  lovers  were  alone.  I  never  forgot 
it;  and  years  afterwards  I  found  that  the  remembrance 
of  it  was  as  vivid  with  Harry  as  with  me. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  most  virulent  mixture 
of  heaven  and  hell  that  ever  poisoned  two  lives.  I 
really  think  that  I  never  was  happy  when  under  the 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  259 

influence  of  .  this  love,  unless  those  moments  of 
temporary  release  from  some  almost  unbearable  pain 
arising  from  it,  could  be  called  happiness.  I  never, 
except  for  a  few  hours  at  a  time,  rested  on  his 
assurance  of  love,  but  kept  feeling  that  it  was  too 
good  to  be  true,  and  that  such  blessedness  could  not 
possibly  exist  for  me. 

This  feeling  destroyed  the  fun-loving  spirit  in  me 
and  made  me  sombre  and  melancholly.  I  was  so 
changed  that  I  am  sure  his  admiration  must  have 
abated  somewhat,  and  with  this  abatement  he  began 
to  be  attracted  to  other  girls  who  were  jollier  than  I 
was.  With  half  the  knowledge  of  human  nature  that 
I  now  have  I  could  have  kept  him  true  as  steel.  I 
could  have  made  myself  irresistible  by  simply  develop- 
ing myself  in  the  direction  of  his  taste.  He  wanted 
me  to  be  brilliant  and  witty,  and  also  to  keep  up  with 
the  literature  of  the  time.  It  was  this  in  me  that  had 
caught  his  fancy  and  captured  his  affections;  and 
when  I  turned  dull  and  sombre  he  was  perplexed,  at 
least,  and  probably  disappointed,  so  that  he  began  to 
look  out  for  these  same  qualities  in  others. 

Yet  all  the  time  there  was  a  tenderness  about  him 
that  was  for  me  alone.  Years  of  devotion  that 
followed  stand  in  proof  of  what  I  have  just  written. 


260  A   SEAKCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

He  never  got  over  his  love  for  me  while  he  lived. 
But  during  the  months  of  which  I  am  writing  he  did 
not  understand  me;  he  did  not  know  how  greatly  I 
stood  in  fear  of  losing  him;  and  it  was  in  consequence 
of  this  fear  that  I  did  lose  him  finally.  < 

He  was  so  attractive  that  almost  every  one  sought 
him.  He  was  so  kind-hearted  and  generous  and  had 
such  a  faculty  for  knowing  how  to  do  everything  that 
needed  to  be  done.  If  a  window  shade  in  the  parlor 
was  refractory  he  fixed  it;  if  the  pictures  were  not 
arranged  artistically  he  could  not  stand  them,  but 
hunted  the  stepladder,  and  such  other  things  as  were 
necessary,  and  made  the  change. 

Wherever  he  was  he  drew  people  to  him.  .  At  the 
depot  he  was  the  centre  point  toward  which  all  the 
perplexed  female  tribe  gravitated  with  irresistible 
force.  He  bought  their  tickets,  and  explained  the 
route,  and  had  trunks  checked,  and  made  everything 
and  everybody  all  right.  His  bright,  handsome  face 
was  everywhere  whenever  help  was  needed.  At 
the  dances  and  picnics  he  was  just  as  useful  and  as 
pleasant. 

He  seemed  to  love  everybody.  I  thought  he  loved 
some  of  them  too  much,  and  sulked  about  it.  He  did 
not  know  what  ailed  me  when  I  was  sulking,  and 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  261 

fancied  that  my  love  was  cooling  and  was  repelled, 
and  no  doubt  grieved.  But  his  patience  was  inde- 
fatigable, and  he  bore  all  my  moods  with  gentleness. 

I  did  not  know  him,  and  I  did  not  know  how  to  love 
rationally.  Indeed,  I  did  not  know  anything  about 
the  matter  then,  and  I  do  not  yet;  only  ugood  Lord, 
deliver  me"  from  ever  having  another  experience  of 
the  kind.  My  emotional  nature  was  too  strong  to 
bear  such  a  complete  upsetment  at  a  time  when  my  in- 
tellect had  not  become  strong  enough  to  control  it. 
And  so  I  tore  myself  to  pieces  daily,  and  I  know  I 
must  have  brought  more  pain  than  pleasure  to  the 
gentle  heart  of  my  boy  lover. 

I  have  been  a  great  novel  reader  in  my  time;  and 
never  yet  have  I  seen  the  passion  of  love  portrayed 
more  powerfully  than  I  felt  it,  and  never  have  I  read 
such  portrayal  but  the  old  feeling  has  come  back  to 
tear  at  my  heart  with  the  same  irresistible  force. 

This  talk  of  the  "heights  of  ecstasy"  connected  with 
this  passion  may  be  true  for  others,  but  I  must  con- 
fess I  never  was  there,  and  the  sentence  does  not  "pal- 
pitate with  actuality"  for  me.  Like  Huck  Finn,  when 
he  read  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  the  descriptions  of  the 
thing  "are  interestin'  but  tough,"  and  no  experience 
of  mine  can  corroborate  them. 


262  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

Falling  in  love  seems  to  be  a  falling  down  below 
the  ordinary  action  of  the  every-day  brain.  It  is  a 
surrendery  of  the  brain  to  a  power  which  should  be 
held  in  abeyance;  and  in  this  way  it  is  a  reversal  of 
the  position  that  has  made  man — in  the  process  of 
evolution — an  upright  creature.  At  least,  this  is  my 
belief  to-day;  but  I  reserve  the  privilege  of  changing 
my  opinion  on  the  subject  if  ever  more  light  comes; 
that  is,  if  I  ever  "fall  in  love"  again.  Here  is  a  chance 
for  that  irrepressible  usmall  fry"  up  in  Boston  to 
laugh.     The  idea  of  grandmamma's  falling  in  love! 

There  were  times  when  I  harbored  the  thought  of 
breaking  with  Harry,  out  of  my  intense  longing  for 
freedom;  but  I  could  not  do  it.  And  the  year  wore  on 
and  the  time  came  for  us  both  to  leave;  I  for  my 
brother's  home  in  Cedar  Rapids,  and  he  for  his  last 
term  in  the  Chicago  medical  school;  and  so  we  parted. 

I  seem  to  be  psychologized  by  this  recital.  I  am 
taken  back  through  the  pain  of  the  whole  thing  once 
more.  My  heart  feels  like  lead  in  my  breast,  and  my 
hand  is  too  nerveless  to  write. 

There  happened  to  be  some  new  ideas  in  medical 
matters  coming  to  the  front  at  that  time,  and  Gus  be- 
ing a  progressive  man  wanted  to  go  to  Chicago  for  a 
brief  season  of  study,  and  there  he  met  Harry. 


A   8EARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  263 

I  do  not  know  how  Gus  could  keep  from  loving 
Harry,  but  he  did  not  love  him,  though  Harry  was 
more  than  kind  to  him,  and  tried  in  every  way  to  win 
his  favor.  It  is  true  that  Harry  went  into  society  that 
he  should  have  avoided,  and  that  he  was  often  under 
the  influence  of  drink;  but  T  believe  that  Gus  could 
have  kept  him  straight  if  he  had  tried.  As  it  was, 
Gus  became  more  and  more  angry  to  think  of  my 
marrying  him,  and  treated  him  shamefully  at  last. 
How  I  was  included  in  the  breach  I  cannot  recall,  but 
it  is  certain  that  I  was  included,  and  that  our  letters 
grew  cold,  especially  his,  until  at  last  it  was  all  over. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  in  detail  how  I  felt; 
but  it  is  an  actual  fact  that  the  light  of  the  whole 
world  went  out  for  me,  and  only  began  to  come  back 
when  my  first  baby  was  laid  in  my  arms  some  two 
years  later. 

One  evening,  about  three  months  after  my  break 
with  Harry,  as  I  sat  in  the  parlor  alone,  it  being  late 
and  the  family  in  bed,  there  came  a  ring  at  the  door. 
As  Gus  had  calls  all  times  of  the  night  I  thought 
nothing  of  it,  as  I  answered  the  bell.  I  opened  the 
parlor  door  into  the  hall  and  stepped  to  the  hall  door. 
In  opening  the  hall  door  the  parlor  door  swung  shut, 
leaving  me  in  black  darkness;  but  the  person  outside 


264  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

had  caught  a  momentary  glimpse  of  me  before  the 
light  was  shut  off.  I  could  not  see  even  the  faintest 
outlines  of  him,  but  he  spoke  my  name,  "Helen,1'  and 
I  knew  his  voice. 

"Dr.  Baker,"  I  said,  and  the  next  moment  the  big, 
strong  fellow  had  me  in  his  arms. 

We  went  into  the  lighted  parlor  and  looked  at  each 
other.  Seven  years  had  passed  and  he  was  trenching 
on  middle  age,  but  he  showed  no  sign  of  it.  He  was 
splendidly  dressed,  and  was  a  splendid  looking  man. 
I  knew  even  before  he  spoke  that  he  intended  to  marry 
me,  and  I  knew  that  I  was  too  heart-broken  and  too 
weak,  both  physically  and  mentally,  to  resist. 

Nevertheless  I  did  resist  to  the  extent  of  telling  him 
all  I  had  gone  through,  and  how  I  still  felt  towards 
Harry.  But  he  set  it  aside  so  persistently  and  with 
such  firmness  that  at  length  I  yielded,  and  with  Gus's 
approval  we  were  married. 

Lib  was  married  several  months  before  I  was.  After 
my  marriage  it  was  decided  that  Emma  should  be  put 
in  a  boarding  school;  that  Lib  should  keep  Julia,  and 
that  I  was  to  take  little  Clem  with  me  to  California, 
where  we  went  in  a  few  months. 

After  our  marriage  we  went  back  to  Fairfield,  where 
we  spent  a  month  with  old  friends  before  saying  "good- 
bye" to  them — in  very  many  instances — forever. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  265 

There  was  no  railroad  to  California  then,  and  the 
steamship  line  had  been  completed  but  a  short  time. 
It  was  late  in  the  spring  of  1856  that  we  left  New 
York  for  San  Francisco.  We  had  a  storm  on  the 
Pacific  and  a  dense  fog  that  protracted  our  journey  so 
that  we  were  nearly  four  weeks  on  the  way. 

Four  weeks  is  not  a  very  long  time  even  in  connec- 
tion with  a  sea  voyage;  but  it  was  long  enough  to 
prove  to  me  that  I  had  made  the  biggest  mistake  of 
my  life  in  my  marriage. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A    BROKEN    IDOL. 

I  have  not  one  word  to  say  against  my  husband, 
who  in  many  ways  was  a  grand  character.  He  was  a 
man  of  rare  integrity,  and  commanded  the  respect  of 
other  men  to  a  very  marked  degree.  But  he  was  a 
most  unhappy  disposition,  and  looked  on  the  dark  side 
of  life  every  day,  and  all  the  time,  to  the  utter  ex- 
clusion of  the  bright  side.  I  think  he  was  the  most 
wretched  and  self-tormenting  man  I  ever  knew. 

He  took  the  chance  of  winning  my  affection  when 

he  married  me,  and  he  might  have  done  it  had  he 

known  how.     But  he  began  to  doubt  his  ability  to  do 

so,  and  to  doubt  my  fealty  to  him  almost  immediately 

and  without  the  slightest  cause.      He  could  not  bear 

to  have  me  make  any  acquaintances  on  the  ship;  he 

made  no  effort  to  entertain  me  himself,  but  was  cross 

with  me  because  others  did.     We  had  lovely  weather 

the  first  part  of  our  voyage.     The  sea  was  like  a  mirror 

and  the  deck  of  our  vessel  was  as  level  as  a  ball  room 

floor.     There  was  a  fine  band  aboard,  and  we  danced 

see 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  267 

not  only  in  the  evenings,  but  often  in  the  day  time 
also.  This  dancing  was  one  prolonged  aggravation  to 
the  doctor. 

I  was  a  member  of  a  church  that  forbade  dancing, 
and  yet  I  had  broken  over  on  more  than  one  occasion. 
It  was  so  easy  for  the  music  to  get  into  my  heels  that 
the  temptation  was  irresistible. 

After  an  unusually  long  voyage,  owing  to  a  storm 
that  came  on  after  we  crossed  the  Isthmus,  we  got 
into  San  Francisco  early  in  June  1856.  Here  we 
remained  but  a  day  or  two,  and  then  went  to  Suisun 
Valley  where  my  husband's  farm  was  located.  This 
is  one  of  the  richest  valleys  in  the  whole  state,  the 
soil  being  particularly  deep,  and  productive  beyond 
belief. 

All  my  life  I  had  despised  a  farm.  The  sounds  on  a 
farm,  so  pleasing  to  many,  were  lonesome  and  un- 
musical and  sickening  to  me.  The  lowing  of  cattle, 
the  crowing  of  chickens,  the  conversation  of  the  ducks 
and  geese — which  I  really  did  like  when  I  came  to 
understand  their  language — were  all  mere  jargon  to 
me  then,  and  added  to  the  inharmony  which  reigned 
within  me. 

The  farmhouse  was  a  miserable  structure  scarcely 
fit  for  a  cow  shed.     There  were  no  conveniences  of 


268  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

any  kind  in  it,  and  no  attractions  outside  of  it.  The 
valley  itself  was  simply  a  flat,  unbroken  plain  with 
here  and  there  a  stunted  oak  tree.  These  trees  were 
all  leaning  in  one  direction,  showing  the  effect  of  the 
trade  winds,  which  blew  for  six  months  out  of  the 
year  in  an  almost  unbroken  gale.  The  sky  was  gray 
in  summer  with  fog  from  the  bay;  the  entire  aspect 
was  the  acme  of  gloom.  Out  on  the  road — if  one 
ventured  out — the  dust  caused  by  the  long  dry  season 
was  swept  in  clouds  either  with  or  against  you,  so 
that  it  mattered  not  whether  your  clothes  were  soiled 
or  clean  when  you  left  home. 

This  was  the  summer  of  that  most  wearisome 
climate.  The  winter  was  better.  There  was  scarcely 
ever  the  slightest  touch  of  frost.  The  trade  winds 
ceased,  and  the  gray  went  out  of  the  sky,  leaving  it 
beautifully  blue,  except  when  the  rains  came.  The 
rains,  too,  were  a  real  delight.  They  were  so  needed; 
every  growing  thing  was  so  covered  with  dust;  and  the 
cracked  earth  drank  the  descending  waters  greedily. 

In  the  winter  the  plowing  was  done  and  the  wheat 
planted.     It  was  mostly  wheat  that  we  raised. 

Our  farm  was  large,  and  my  husband  was  considered 
a  rich  man.  He  had  about  quit  the  practice  of 
medicine  and  gave  his  entire  time  to  his  crops. 


A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

I  must  have  been  an  extremely  reticent  girl  not  to 
have  told  him  of  my  disinclination  to  fill  the  position 
he  assigned  me;  a  position  of  such  slavery  as  would 
scarcely  be  thought  possible  for  any  woman  to  fill. 

It  took  nine  or  ten  men  in  the  winter  to  get  the 
crop  in.  It  took  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  to  take 
it  off;  and  the  crops  were  so  heavy  that  it  frequently 
required  three  months  to  harvest  them.  This  was 
before  farming  machinery  had  made  the  improve- 
ments in  farmers'  work  that  it  has  since  done. 

I  did  the  cooking  and  the  housework  for  this  crowd 
of  men,  and  my  washing  and  ironing  and  sewing 
besides.  I  was  up  before  day,  and  was  rarely  in  bed 
before  midnight.  I  had  a  few  neighbors  who  worked 
as  hard  as  I  did  in  proportion  to  their  strength, 
though  none  of  them  were  half  so  strong  as  I  was. 

I  think  it  took  nearly  two  years  to  toughen  me  to 
the  work.  During  this  time  I  had  wept  in  secret  over 
my  lonely  and  truly  dreadful  position  until  my  eyes 
quite  failed  me  and  I  was  compelled  to  put  on  glasses. 

But  just  before  I  got  the  glasses  my  baby  came, 
and  I  was  no  longer  alone. 

It  is  true  that  my  little  sister  Clem  was  with  me 
during  this  time,  but  I  had  kept  her  in  school;  and 
even  when  she  was  at  home  I  was  resolved  not  to 


270  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

have  her  enslaved  by  the  uncongenial  work  that  was 
fast  destroying  the  beauty  of  my  hands  and  com- 
plexion, and  that  was  already  beginning  to  stiffen  my 
joints  somewhat. 

But  this  baby — Ada!  If  I  do  some  crowing  over 
her  I  freely  give  every  other  mother  the  same  privi- 
lege. I  never  saw  such  a  baby  as  she  was.  I  have 
never  seen  any  other  baby  so  precocious.  Her  intel- 
ligence seems  marvelous  now  as  I  look  back  and  see 
what  she  did,  and  later  what  she  said,  and  how  she 
performed  generally.  Such  a  madcap  laugh  as  she 
had,  and  such  appreciation  of  fun!  The  little  scamp 
played  a  practical  joke  on  me  before  she  was  six 
months  old.  I  had  nursed  her  to  sleep  (as  I  supposed) 
and  had  placed  her  in  her  crib  and  started  out  to 
wash  the  supper  dishes.  Hearing  a  joyous  little 
squeal  and  a  rapturous,  ringing  laugh  behind  me,  I 
turned,  and  there  she  stood  on  her  tiny  feet  holding 
by  the  railing,  rippling  all  over  with  mirth,  while 
her  eyes  said  unmistakably  that  she  had  played  a  trick 
on  me. 

And  yet,  not  thinking  it  possible  that  a  baby  of 
her  age  could  get  off  a  practical  joke,  I  nursed  her  to 
sleep  again.  It  only  took  about  a  minute  this  time, 
and  I  placed  her  in  the  crib  and  started  out,  to  be 


A   8EARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  271 

once  more  arrested  by  that  musical  peal  which  said 
as  plainly  as  spoken  words,  "I've  fooled  you  again." 

I  now  began  to  experiment  with  her,  and  she  kept 
repeating  the  performance  until  at  last  she  was  over- 
powered by  sleep. 

Shortly  after  this  she  began  to  talk,  and  when  she 
was  eleven  months  old  she  put  sentences  together 
admirably. 

The  farm  hands,  many  of  whom  were  men  of 
sterling  worth  and  culture,  and  had  been  leading 
citizens  before  they  became  stranded  in  a  new  country 
so  far  from  home,  were  very  fond  of  her,  and  took 
almost  the  exclusive  care  of  her  when  they  were  about 
the  house. 

Babies  were  at  a  premium  then  in  California,  there 
b,eing  but  few  families  there.  I  recall  the  time  I 
went  to  a  camp  meeting  when  she  was  some  eight  or 
ten  months  old.  I  could  scarcely  keep  track  of  her. 
The  men  had  her  and  were  passing  her  around. 
They  all  wanted  her,  and  in  a  little  bashful,  co- 
quettish way  she  wanted  them.  Evidently  she  ap- 
preciated their  admiration.  She  would  be  brought 
back  to  me  at  intervals  with  her  little  fat  paws  full 
of  gold  nuggets  and  gold  coins  that  they  gave  her. 

She  learned   to   read  almost  as  soon  as  she  could 


272  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

talk.  The  men  taught  her  the  letters  from  news- 
papers at  nights  and  on  Sundays;  and  it  was  the 
richest  thing  I  ever  saw  to  witness  her  attempts  at 
spelling  and  pronouncing  the  difficult  words'.  They 
said  she  had  "the  grit  to  buck  at  anything;"  and  they 
taxed  their  ingenuity  to  find  words  long  enough  and 
hard  enough.  With  her  brilliant,  laughing  eyes  she 
would  watch  them  for  each  fresh  word,  and  start  into 
it  with  a  rush  of  letters  and  a  jumble  of  syllables  that 
usually  culminated  in  a  vortex  wherein  the  word 
itself  was  frequently  overwhelmed,  or  only  a  faint 
semblance  of  it  escaped;  and  the  effort  would  be 
followed  by  her  little,  wild,  reckless  laugh,  with  such  a 
ring  of  high  vitality,  that  we  were  drawn  into  it 
irresistibly.  Such  fun  as  we  had  with  the  bright 
thing! 

When  she  was  three  years  old  the  men  were  in  the 
habit  of  setting  her  on  a  large  table  of  an  evening 
while  she  read  the  newspapers  aloud  to  them.  I 
scarcely  owned  the  child  at  all., 

Those  were  primitive  times  in  California.  It  was 
nothing  to  ride  ten  miles  to  a  dance,  and  take  her 
along.  Indeed,  before  she  was  two  years  old  she  had 
a  baby  sister  who  was  with  her  in  all  her  excursions. 

Riding  up  to  the  school  house — we  usually  held  our 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  273 

dances  in  the  school  houses  sparsely  scattered  over 
the  country — it  not  unfrequently  chanced  that 
twenty  or  thirty  of  the  neighbors  would  be  there  to 
help  us  to  dismount.  My  husband  did  not  like  to 
have  me  go  to  these  dances,  and  often  refused  to 
accompany  me.  But  there  were  always  plenty  of 
others  who  were  willing  to  take  care  of  us,  and  I  would 
not  be  altogether  restrained.  Nearly  all  the  women 
in  a  radius  of  fifteen  miles  would  be  there  with  their 
children.  Beds  were  extemporized  for  the  little  ones 
out  of  saddle  blankets  and  shawls,  and  the  surplus 
men  who  could  not  dance  took  care  of  them  when 
they  needed  care.  Babies  were  passed  around  from 
one  person  to  another,  and  no  person  seemed  to  feel 
them  a  burden.  As  for  my  volatile  little  tow-head 
she  scarcely  slept  at  all,  but  threw  herself  into  the 
music  and  let  the  music  dance  her  baby  feet  the 
whole  night  long.  "And  we  didn't  go  home  till 
morning." 

But  on  the  tiresome  ride  home  1  had  time  for 
reflection.  I  expected  to  meet  scowls,  and  they  never 
failed  me.  Always  before  going  to  one  of  these 
dances  I  would  make  such  perfect  preparations  for 
breakfast  that  there  was  scarcely  anything  to  do 
besides  steeping  the  coffee,  and  some  of  the  men  were 


274  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

always  willing  to  do  this  for  me.  So  that  my  going 
did  not  upset  my  household  work.  But  that  I  would 
go  at  all  vexed  my  husband,  and  he  had  very  little 
consideration  as  to  the  way  he  manifested  his  feelings. 
He  had  his  views  of  a  wife's  duties,  and  they  would 
have  enslaved  me  completely  if  I  had  complied  with 
them  perfectly. .  I  did  comply  with  them  entirely  too 
much.  I  worked  too  hard.  It  would  scarcely  be 
believed  that  one  woman  could  do  the  work  that  I 
did.  In  the  twenty  years  I  lived  with  him,  less  than 
two  years  would  cover  the  time  I  had  any  household 
help.  I  showed  him  my  swollen  and  stiffened  joints, 
and  told  him  I  could  not  stand  it  to  work  so  hard. 
But  he  only  kept  promising  that  when  he  got  out  of 
debt  I  should  have  help  all  the  time.  I  knew  quite 
well  that  if  he  had  had  my  work  to  do,  or  a  similar 
amount  of  work  of  another  kind,  that  he  would  have 
hired  two  or  more  men  to  do  it  without  reference  to 
getting  out  of  debt.  But  I  had  not  sufficient  positive- 
ness  to  assert  myself,  and  so  I  bore  it;  not  without 
complaining  and  making  things  quite  lively  for  short 
intervals,  however. 

If  I  had  been  brought  up  with  any  other  idea  than 
that  of  man's  God-given  right  to  lord  it  over  woman, 
I  could  have  changed  the  whole  tenor  of  my  life  and 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  275 

of  his  also.  Knowing  him  as  well  as  I  did  later,  I  am 
sure  I  could  have  taken  the  management  of  the 
business  in  my  own  hands,  and  with  small  opposition 
on  his  part.  I  think,  too,  I  could  have  made  a  success 
of  it.  One  thing  certain,  it  would  not  have  been 
possible  to  botch  it  worse  than  it  was  botched. 

It  was  his  complete  lack  of  business  ability  that 
kept  him  in  hot  water.  He  should  never  have 
abandoned  his  profession  for  farming.  In  his  pro- 
fession he  was  at  the  head,  and  he  passed  for  his  full 
worth.  Sixteen  dollars  a  visit  was  a  doctor's  regular 
price  for  attendance  on  patients.  Up  to  the  time  he 
bought  the  farm  he  had  a  large  practice.  He  was 
known  and  trusted  all  over  that  part  of  the  state. 

A  practicing  physician's  duties  are  hard,  and  he 
was  tired  of  them.  So  he  bought  land.  After  his 
first  purchase  of  two  hundred  acres  of  the  richest 
land  I  ever  saw,  he  began  to  want  more.  He  wanted 
all  the  land  that  bordered  on  his  land.  In  short,  he 
wanted  the  world.  He  kept  purchasing  until  he  had 
invested  all  his  money,  and  still  he  kept  purchasing. 

Interest  on  money  in  California  at  that  time  was 
three  per  cent,  a  month.  Land  did  not  go  up  as 
rapidly  as  he  expected.  It  did  not  go  up  at  all.  The 
crops  were  large,   but  prices  varied  so  that  no  one 


276  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

knew  when  to  sell.  The  doctor  never  was  satisfied 
with  a  fair  paying  price,  but  usually  held  his  grain 
until  the  market  had  touched  the  highest  point  and 
tumbled  over  the  edge  down  and  down  toward 
nothingness. 

No  wonder  he  was  filled  with  anxiety,  and  that  he 
did  not  understand  how  I  could  canter  off  ten  miles  to 
a  dance  with  a  baby  in  my  lap,  and  another  one  in  the 
lap  of  one  of  the  neighbors.  He  thought  me  in- 
different to  his  troubles..  He  did  not  know  that  the 
gloom  of  his  face  had  become  a  perpetual  terror  to 
me,  and  that  my  heart  quailed  whenever  I  heard  his 
step  on  the  porch. 

His  entire  attitude  repelled  me.  He  was  not  only 
unhappy,  but  he  was  irritable.  He  did  not  mean  to 
be  unkind,  and  he  was  not  really  so;  but  he  often 
said  things  inadvertently  that  made  me  cry  for  hours. 
His  indifference  to  the  fact  of  my  working  so  hard 
was  a  growing  hurt,  and  I  came  in  time  to  almost 
hate  him  for  it. 

I  could  not  forget  that  I  had  once  been  loved;  and 
the  recollection  of  Harry  Washburn  was  with  me 
almost  hourly.  I  discovered  later  that  it  was  not 
Harry  to  whom  I  was  true,  but  an  ideal  that  Harry 
failed   utterly  to  fill.     I  had  not  stood  in  the  same 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  277 

mental  tracks  all  these  years;  I  had  been  growing; 
and  I  had  outgrown  Harry,  but  I  did  not  know  it  until 
after  I  met  him  again  and  saw  him  as  he  really  was. 

My  two  young  daughters  were  growing  towards 
womanhood,  and  where  I  lived  there  were  no  educa- 
tional advantages.  I  should  have,  said  before  this 
that  the  interest  the  doctor  was  paying  on  money 
had  compelled  him  to  sell  his  land  where  we  had  been 
living.  Only  a  few  thousand  dollars  were  left  us; 
and  with  this  sum  we  went  to  the  mountains  of  Lake 
county,  a  wild  and  beautiful  spot,  and  there  began  to 
raise  stock.  Our  family  consisted  of  the  two 
daughters  I  have  spoken  of,  and  one  son,  Claude,  and 
baby  Jenny;  the  most  angelic  little  girl  I  ever  saw. 
She  only  lived  to  be  nine  years  old,  but  she  left  a  void 
never  to  be  filled. 

I  could  not  rest  and  feel  that  Ada  and  Florence 
were  growing  up  without  the  advantages  of  a 
thorough  education,  and  so  I  resolved  to  take  them  to 
San  Francisco  and  put  them  into  a  good  school.  This 
determination  of  mine  met  with  much  resistance  from 
the  doctor,  but  I  would  not  be  overruled.  The  matter 
was  too  important.  I  had  sacrificed  everything  to  his 
belief  in  the  power  of  poverty — even  my  health  and 
strength,  and  such  measure  of  beauty  as  I  had  pos- 


278  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

sessed;  but  I  would  go  no  farther.     So  I  had  my  way. 

I  firmly  believed  that  if  I  had  the  time  for  writing 
I  could  earn  enough  for  the  family  support.  My  ex- 
periences in  this  attempt  will  be  recorded  in  another 
chapter.  I  reached  San  Francisco  all  right;  and  no 
bird  freed  from  its  cage  ever  felt  such  an  upliftment 
as  I  did.  I  met  my  old  friends,  the  Daltons,  here,  and 
they  assisted  me  in  finding  a  suitable  house  and  in  be- 
coming settled. 

I  knew  that  Harry  was  in  San  Francisco,  because  it 
had  been  announced  in  the  papers  several  years  be- 
fore. He  had  become  a  distinguished  man,  and  was 
high  up  in  a  literary  position  which  his  own  ability — 
such  as  it  was — had  established  for  him. 

I  had  made  no  effort  to  find  him,  and  secretly 
dreaded  a  meeting  with  him.  I  know  of  nothing 
more  distressing  than  the  constant  crushing  which 
goes  on  among  the  hard-working  farmers'  wives, 
whereby  they  come  to  habitually  distrust  themselves, 
until  they  fear  to  face  any  but  their  commonest 
acquaintances. 

Such  an  intense  timidity  was  on  me  all  the  time 
that  I  am  sure  I  would  have  gone  on  secretly  dream- 
ing of  Harry  to  the  end  of  my  days,  without  ever 
giving  him  a  sign  of  my  presence,  had  not  fate  or 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  279 

accident  or  the  law  of  attraction  ordered  otherwise. 
I  was  on  Kearney  street  one  day  with  Jenny.  She 
was  about  four  years  old;  and  I  recall  how  beautiful 
she  looked  as  she  ran  ahead  of  me  with  her  fluffy  curls 
trying  to  keep  up  with  her,  and  in  their  grace  and 
lightness  only  settling  on  her  fair  shoulders  a  moment 
at  a  time,  then  rising  again  to  be  borne  on  the  air 
behind  her — Oh,  my  baby! 

The  day  was  delicious  and  I  felt  as  joyous  as  a  girl. 
It  seemed  as  if  I  might  let  Harry  know  of  my  presence 
in  the  city,  and  give  him  a  chance  to  see  me  if  he 
wished  to.  I  felt  quite  sure  that  he  would  not  want 
to  see  me;  but  the  rest  I  had  by  this  time  taken  from 
hard  work,  with  the  addition  of  a  few  fashionable 
garments,  had  greatly  added  to  my  self-possession,  so 
that  I  was  less  timid  than  formerly. 

Absorbed  in  a  delightfully  hopeful  revery,  and 
watching  Jenny  with  loving  eyes,  I  scarcely  noticed  a 
man  who  passed  me  rapidly,  and  turned  and  passed 
me  again.  I  caught  his  eye  in  full  as  we  met  face  to 
face;  I  knew  it  was  Harry,  almost  unchanged  and 
handsomer  than  ever.  But  I  gave  him  no  look  of 
recognition,  for  I  think  I  had  turned  to  stone,  and  he 
passed  behind  me  once  more.  Then  he  repeated  the 
same  performance;  but  in  the  hasty  flash  of  his  dis- 


280  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

appearance  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  not 
recognize  him.  All  my  pride  came  in  a  rush.  I  was 
so  changed,  while  in  him  the  change  was  for  the 
better.  Heavens,  how  this  matter  chilled  me!  It  re- 
moved me  from  the  warm  atmosphere  in  which  my 
thoughts  had  been  dwelling,  and  sent  me  to  some 
North-pole  mental  condition  where  I  was  frozen  to 
death,  but  still  conscious  of  my  own  womanly  dignity 
and  worth. 

But  he  was  not  to  be  resisted.  On  coming  again 
face  to  face  with  me  he  grasped  my  hands  in  unmis- 
takable welcome.  Then  Jenny  who  was  the  most 
friendly  little  thing  that  ever  was,  perceiving  her 
mother's  new  acquaintance,  caught  him  around  the 
knees  and  with  her  upturned,  smiling  face  danced  a 
little  welcome  on  his  toes  and  the  adjoining  pavement. 

He  looked  down  and  then  laughed  his  old  genial, 
happy  laugh.  "It's  your  baby,  Helen,"  he  said,  and 
caught  her  up  and  kissed  her  rapturously.  And  then 
he  began  to  talk. 

"I  have  no  children,  though  I  have  wished  for  them 
much.  My  sisters  have  enough,  and  in  each  family 
there  is  a  Helen  because  I  desired  it.  I  have  perpetu- 
ated your  name  right  and  left,  even  if  I  have  no  little 
Helen  of  my  own." 


A   8EARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  281 

He  told  me  among  other  things  that  he  would  have 
known  me  in  China;  that  I  was  not  greatly  changed, 
etc. 

But  to  end  this  matter  and  this  chapter.  I  will  only 
add  that  I  exchanged  visits  frequently  with  him  and 
his  lovely  wife;  that  before  I  had  been  with  them 
much,  T  liked  her  better  than  I  did  him.  For  it  is  a 
fact  that  he  had  made  no  advancement  in  his  ideas  at 
all,  and  was  one  of  the  most  conservative  men  alive; 
weakly  so;  conservative  to  a  degree  that  made  him 
appear  intrinsically  unmanly.  His  success  in  life  had 
sprung  greatly  from  this  fact.  His  fine  literary  edu- 
cation, together  with  his  rare  command  of  language, 
had  made  him  a  mouth  piece  through  the  public 
prints  for  the  aristocratic  element  of  the  city;  and  his 
sentiments  bore  hard  upon  my  own  awakening  ideas 
of  justice  as  administered  there  and  then. 

It  did  not  take  me  long  to  find  out  that  I  had  not 
been  loving  Harry  all  these  years,  but  like  a  vast 
number  of  married  women  and  men  too,  whose  mar- 
riages have  proven  fearfully  uncongenial,  I  had  simply 
been  holding  an  ideal  of  what  might  have  been. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE  FETTERS  ARE  FALLING. 

After  about  two  years  in  San  Francisco,  much  of 
which  time  Dr.  Baker  spent  with  me  quite  pleasantly, 
I  returned  to  the  ranch.  A  little  later  Harry  died. 
A  letter  from  his  wife  gave  me  all  the  particulars. 
She  was  quite  heart-broken;  but  the  event  did  not 
bring  a  tear  from  me.  He  had  gone  out  of  my  life 
before  this  as  completely  as  if  I  had  never  known 
him. 

As  before  mentioned,  the  reason  of  this  lay  in  the 
fact  that  I  had  been  growing  mentally,  while  he  had 
not.  I  had  passed  above  and  beyond  the  habitual 
range  of  his  ideas.  The  hard  lessons  of  my  life  had 
been  educating  me,  while  he — lacking  such  teachers — 
missed  the  education. 

I  had  thought  myself  out  of  the  church;  out  of  all 
belief  in  a  personal  God;  out  of  the  Bible  account  of 
creation  into  the  evolutionary  theory;  and  I  was  in- 
vestigating every  idea  that  promised  to  lead  in  the 
direction   of   truth.     The   very   moment  we  touched 

282 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  283 

upon  any  of  these  subjects  we  clashed;  and  presently 
there  was  nothing  for  us  to  talk  about,  and  his 
presence  would  tire  me. 

It  was  not  a  matter  of  surprise  to  me  that  he 
succeeded  in  literature  where  I  had  failed.  He  was 
able  to  give  the  reading  public  the  kind  of  pap  it 
demanded;  the  food  I  tried  to  cram  down  its  throat 
was  too  strong  for  it,  and  was  rejected  by  it.  Then, 
too,  it  was  immensely  in  his  favor  that  he  was  a 
practiced  writer  and  a  master  of  composition.  I  had 
ideas  without  any  adequate  medium  of  expression. 
He  had  no  ideas,  and  wrote  brilliant  and  beautiful 
nothings  that  had  a  tendency  to  please  the  average 
reader  without  antagonizing  him,  and  also  without 
arousing  a  thought.  He  was  just  the  man  for  his 
position,  and  drew  his  princely  salary  from  the  largest 
moneyed  corporation  on  the  Pacific  coast.  He  was  a 
stool  pidgeon  in  the  hands  of  a  conscienceless  gang  of 
millionaires,  who,  through  the  newspapers  they  had 
subsidized,  sought  to  amuse  the  public  while  they 
robbed  it. 

And  he  could  do  this  under  the  benignant  smile  of 
the  God  he  worshiped,  and  rail  at  me  for  having 
departed  from  his  infantile  religious  beliefs.  No 
wonder  he  became  tiresome. 


284  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

And  now  I  will  go  back  awhile  and  tell  how  I  got 
out  of  the  religious  beliefs  I  was  born  into. 

And  I  say  boldly  and  in  defiance  of  all  Christendom 
that  the  combined  ills  which  prey  upon  the  race  and 
hold  it  in  the  slavery  of  ignorance  are  as  nothing  in 
comparison  with  its  religious  beliefs.  Religion  is  the 
foundation  rock  on  which  rests  every  trouble  and 
sorrow  that  besets  humanity.  It  is  organized  in  the 
belief  of  man's  inherent  weakness;  it  fosters  his 
belief  in  his  own  nothingness;  its  entire  tendency  is 
to  develop  things  and  not  men. 

Religion  has  not  one  solitary  particle  of  true  logic 
on  which  to  rest.  It  was  born  of  ignorance,  bolstered 
by  superstition,  fed  by  that  bugaboo  of  the  ages, 
"authority." 

And  an  utterly  baseless  authority  at  that;  an 
authority  that  cannot  rise  higher  than  the  under- 
standing of  man,  or  it  would  lose  its  connection  with 
him,  and  fail  to  be  available  even  for  purposes  of  self- 
delusion. 

Religion  was  born  at  a  time  when  the  understand- 
ing of  man  was  scarcely  higher  than  that  of  the  apes. 
It  fastened  itself  upon  the  ignorant  wonder  of  his 
questioning  faculties  and  took  possession  of  them. 

That  religion   has    been  an  essential   incident   in 


A   8EARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  285 

race  growth  I  am  not  going  to  deny.  That  it  was  a 
necessity  of  race  growth  to  go  through  the  stultifying 
process  in  order  that  it  might  learn  the  true  way  from 
the  false,  I  shall  not  deny.  Truth  always— in  our 
development — presents  its  negative  pole  to  us  first; 
that  is,  it  shows  us  first  what  is  not  true,  and  from 
this  point  of  observation  we  gradually  feel  our  way 
toward  what  is  true. 

Thus,  religion  that  endeavors  to  teach  man  his 
weakness,  leads  him  through  experiences  that  would 
ruin  him  if  they  did  not  direct  him  to  the  very  reverse 
of  what  they  teach,  and  finally  show  him  his  strength. 

The  very  moment  a  man  begins  to  live  from  a  con- 
sciousness of  his  own  strength  he  sees  small  use  of  a 
personal  God;  his  reasoning  powers  awake,  and  little 
by  little  he  reverses  the  entire  scheme  and  comes  out 
on  top.  Inasmuch  as  he  had  been  a  slave  under  his 
belief  in  the  supremacy  of  a  personal  God,  he  sees 
himself  the  governing  power  and  the  creative  force  of 
the  world,  with  the  Principle  of  Being  at  his  service 
and  under  his  command.  And  oh!  what  a  change 
this  is. 

The  religious  superstition  hung  heavily  upon  my 
mind  and  heart  always.  Even  in  my  happiest  hours 
I  felt  it  an  ever  present  weight  below  the  surface  of 


286  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

my  gayety.  I  was  never  quite  free  from  it.  But  it 
was  only  when  that  fair,  little,  downy-ball  of  intense 
vitality — my  baby — came  to  my  arms  that  I  began  to 
be  actively  wretched  about  the  doctrines  of  my  church. 
It  was  then  that  the  horrors  of  future  punishment 
fastened  cruel  tentacles  in  my  very  flesh  and  made  me 
wild  with  anxiety.  I  had  borne  these  thoughts  so  far 
as  I  myself  was  concerned  with  some  degree  of  forti- 
tude. For,  indeed,  it  seemed  that  my  own  salvation 
rested  with  myself  to  a  certain  degree.  Except  in  the 
matter  of  dancing  I  was  faithful  in  all  religious 
observances.  I  attended  church  regularly  and  rev- 
erently. I  gave  money  for  the  support  of  the  gospel 
with  a  liberal  hand.  I  saved  it  up  in  every  way  I 
could;  I  took  it  from  my  housekeeping  expenses,  and 
from  the  sale  of  my  poultry;  and  denied  myself  almost 
everything  in  order  to  do  it.  I  kept  open  house  for 
all  the  preachers  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  was 
imposed  upon  to  an  almost  unlimited  extent  by  them. 
It  will  be  wondered  what  my  husband  was  thinking 
about  during  this  time.  I  must  confess  that  he  was 
acting  the  perfect  gentleman.  He  was  humoring  me 
in  my  beliefs.  Never  in  all  his  life  had  he  been  for 
one  moment  under  the  influence  of  any  religious 
opinions.     Still  he  considered  it  no  part  of  his  right 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  287 

to  interfere  with  me  in  this  matter.  He  was  a  man— 
who  having  formed  his  own  opinion  of  right  and 
wrong — could  hold  to  his  conclusion  rigidly. 

He  sometimes  asked  me  questions  about  certain 
hopelessly  unreasonable  tenets  held  by  my  religion, 
and  smiled  cynically  at  my  answers;  but  beyond  this 
he  let  me  alone.  He  usually  went  with  me  to  church, 
and  frequently  returned  in  a  very  bad  temper.  Still 
on  the  whole  I  am  sure  he  behaved  much  better  than 
I  would  have  done  had  our  positions  been  reversed. 

What  in  the  world  is  sweeter  than  a  baby  girl  ex- 
cept two  baby  girls?  When  A.da  was  four  years  old 
and  Florence  a  trifle  over  half  that,  they  were  the 
same  size,  and  were  taken  for  twins.  They  were  in 
the  habit  of  trudging  about  holding  each  other  by  the 
hand,  and  talking  together  in  one  unbroken  stream  of 
talk,  interspersed  with  such  ripples  and  cascades  of 
laughter  as  I  had  never  heard  before. 

What  wonder  that  the  thought  of  their  salvation 
from  sin,  and  their  eternal  happiness  was  forced  upon 
me?  I  saw  that  my  own  salvation  would  not  save 
them,  and  that  according  to  the  tenets  of  my  church 
I  might  come  to  the  place  of  eternal  parting  with 
them.  This  thought  was  not  so  unbearable  as  it 
would  have  been  but  for  one  much  worse;  the  thought 


288  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

that  they  might  be  everlastingly  lost;  everlastingly 
subject  to  the  tortures  of  an  orthodox  hell. 

The  horror  of  this  kind  of  thinking  grew  on  me 
and  tortured  me  constantly.  It  robbed  me  of  all 
pleasure  in  my  children.  I  could  better  have  borne  to 
see  them  dead  in  their  innocence,  than  to  have  them 
grow  up  with  the  certainty  of  hell  before  them,  as  the 
reward  of  sins  so  easily  committed  as  they  appeared 
to  be. 

I  began  to  talk  to  the  preachers  who  frequented 
our  house,  but  failed  to  arouse  any  special  interest  in 
them.  This  surprised  me  at  first,  for  I  had  foolishly 
imagined  that  they  carried  these  infinitely  important 
matters  upon  their  brains  and  consciences  every  wak- 
ing hour  of  their  lives.  It  had  seemed  to  me  that 
their  only  mission  was  to  "snatch  souls  as  brands 
from  the  burning,1'  and  I  was  entirely  unprepared  for 
their  indifference.  I  myself,  infused  by  a  conception 
of  the  awfulness  of  the  situation,  had  become  a  tre- 
mendous evangelist  in  a  limited,  home-like  way.  I 
talked  to  the  hired  men  with  such  earnestness  and 
interest  that  I  made  converts  of  them  in  spite  of  the 
superior  reasoning  powers  of  many  of  them.  I  expect 
I  frightened  them.  At  all  events  I  made  church 
members  of  some  of  them. 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  289 

I  talkpd  to  everybody  who  would  listen.  I  must 
have  been  an  intolerable  nuisance  to  the  neighbors, 
many  of  whom  did  really  begin  to  avoid  the  house. 

And  at  length  the  preachers  began  to  avoid  me  too. 
I  "out-Heroded  Herod"  to  such  an  extent  that  they 
could  not  stand  me.  I  reproached  them  for  their 
"lukewarmness;"  I  "whacked"  them  over  the  head  with 
whole  bundles  of  quotations  from  the  Bible;  and 
frequently  I  became  personally  offensive,  and  called 
them  names,  such  as  backslider,  hypocrite,  etc. 

"How  can  the  salvation  of  these  babies  be  insured; 
answer  me  that."  This  was  the  burden  of  my  question 
and  my  demand.  Not  that  it  was  my  own  babies 
alone  that  agitated  me.  The  whole  race  of  babies  and 
their  parents  included  had  become  my  own  babies 
since  my  induction  into  motherhood. 

u0h,  you  cold-blooded  sneaks,  sailing  under  the  garb 
of  Christ,  and  satisfied  to  eat  and  sleep  and  wear  fine 
clothes  and  do  nothing,  when  nine-tenths  of  the 
people  are  on  the  down  grade,  slanting  directly  into 
the  yawning  mouth  of  hell!  What  do  you  think  you 
are  for  anyhow?" 

This  is  the  question  I  put  to  four  of  the  preachers, 
including  the  Elder,  one  Sunday  afternoon  when  they 
were  strutting  about  the  floor,  smoking  cigars  and 
discussing  church  gossip.     The  Elder  turned  on  me. 


290  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

"Sister,"  he  said  "into  what  condition  are  you  drift- 
ing? How  can  you  justify  yourself  in  saying  such 
things  as  you  have  been  saying?  The  habit  of  insult- 
ing God's  chosen  servants  has  been  growing  on  you 
of  late,  so  that  you  are  becoming  a  torment  to  us 
instead  of  the  blessing  you  once  were.  Kneel  down 
right  here  and  let  us  pray  for  you." 

Pray  for  me  indeed!  No  words  were  ever  spoken 
that  let  so  much  light  into  my  mind  on  the  subject  of 
prayer.  I  thought  of  how  my  life  had  been  one 
almost  unbroken  prayer,  and  how  never  a  petition  had 
been  answered.  Strange  that  I  had  not  considered 
this  fact  before;  but  I  never  had.  I  saw  it  now  plain 
enough. 

"You  shall  not  pray  for  me,"  I  said;  "you  shall  tell 
me  how  my  children  are  to  be  saved  from  hell." 

"Sister,"  replied  the  Elder,  "be  patient;  have  faith; 
make  your  own  calling  and  election  sure,  and  leave  the 
fate  of  your  children  in  the  hands  of  God.  I  fully 
believe  that  God  will  save  the  children  of  such  a 
mother  as  you  are." 

"But  will  all  be  saved?     I  want  to  know  this." 

"No,  surely  not,"  he  answered.  "Those  who  do  not 
accept  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  and  believe  it  and 
live  it  will  be  damned." 


A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  291 

•'Suppose  their  brains  are  so  constructed  that  they 
can't  believe  it?" 

uYet  surely,  sister,  they  must  be  damned;  otherwise 
the  words  of  the  gospel  are  null  and  void." 

"Get  out  of  this  house,"  I  said.  My  voice  was  so 
low  T  only  just  heard  it  myself;  yet  every  one  in  the 
room  heard  it  distinctly.  The  doctor  had  be'en  tilted 
back  against  the  wall  in  a  splint-bottomed  chair,  and 
his  hat  lay  on  the  floor  beside  him.  He  reached  down 
and,  picking  it  up,  placed  it  on  his  head  at  an  angle 
that  quite  concealed  his  face.  Otherwise  he  was  per- 
fectly still.  All  the  preachers  looked  at  me  aghast 
and  speechless.     Not  one  of  them  moved. 

Their  hats  and  canes  and  umbrellas  lay  around  pro- 
miscuously. My  muscles  quivered  like  the  finest  steel 
springs,  so  permeated  were  they  with  my  thought  as 
I  picked  up  each  separate  article  and  pitched  it  out  of 
doors.  I  might  have  been  a  butterfly  poised  in  mid 
aid,  or  touching  first  one  flower  and  then  another,  I 
felt  so  light  and  so  superbly  reckless.  It  was  in  this 
act  that  I  laid  down  the  burden  of  a  life  time,  though 
at  the  moment  I  did  not  know  it. 

The  preachers  huddled  out  in  confusion;  the  doctor 
brought  the  front  legs  of  his  chair  to  the  floor  and 
walked  leisurely  out.     He  assisted  them  in  picking  up 


292  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

their  scattered  property,  and  walked  down  the  road 
with  them.  It  was  two  hours  before  he  returned,  and 
in  that  time  I  had  passed  through  a  revolution. 

T  sat  down  in  expectation  of  being  overwhelmed 
with  regret.  I  waited  for  it.  It  did  not  come.  I  had 
not  dared  investigate  my  feelings,  but  when  at  length 
I  turned  my  thoughts  inward  I  felt  the  strangest  jubi- 
lation I  ever  experienced.  The  load  of  a  life  time  was 
gone.  What  did  it  mean?  I  could  no  longer  keep 
my  seat.  I  stood  up  and  felt  no  weight.  It  came  to 
me  that  I  was  suddenly  translated.  I  walked  to  the 
door  to  meet  the  same  dismal  and  forlorn  view  that 
had  shocked  my  sense  of  beauty  so  often;  yet  there 
was  no  denying  the  fact  that  I  seemed  to  be  walking 
on  air.  My  load  was  gone,  and  this  that  I  was  ex- 
periencing was  the  first  effects  of  freedom. 

I  thought  of  the  two  little  girls  taking  their  after- 
noon sleep  in  the  next  room.  I  had  always  been  told 
that  if  I  committed  any  unpardonable  sin  the  first 
effect  would  show  itself  in  the  death  of  my  mother 
love.  But  oh!  what  a  rush  of  affection  overwhelmed 
me  as  I  looked  at  them.  I  would  have  waked  them 
with  my  caresses,  but  was  held  back  by  my  desire  to 
think  out  the  strangeness  of  the  whole  occurrence. 

But  how  long  it  was  before  emotion  gave  place  to 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  293 

the  power  of  thought!  Indeed,  it  did  not  do  so  for 
days.  For  days  I  was  filled  with  nothing  but  the 
jubilant  sense  of  freedom.  I  quit  trying  to  think, 
and  felt  that  I  could  wait;  and  I  had  the  assurance 
that  thought — when  it  should  come — would  justify 
me. 

I  hardly  know  how  long  it  was  before  the  whole 
truth  of  the  matter  unraveled  itself  to  my  compre- 
hension. But  when  it  finally  did  so  I  knew  that  I — 
my  own  individualized  intelligence — had  never  be- 
lieved one  word  of  the  whole  gospel  scheme.  I  knew 
that  my  entire  belief  in  it  had  been  hypnotic.  It  was 
the  world's  belief  sweeping  over  me  and  through  me, 
dimming  and  blinding  my  own  reasoning  powers.  Lit- 
tle by  little  my  reasoning  powers  crept  out  from  under 
this  deadening  influence  and  asserted  themselves,  and 
I  began  to  be  a  thinking  creature  with  vested  rights 
of  my  own.  I  was  born  into  a  new  world.  Like  the 
young  plant  I  had  burst  the  soil  that  lay  so  heavily 
above  my  head,  and  had  come  through  into  the  realm 
of  light  above. 

I  had  heard  it  said  that  when  a  repentant  sinner 
"got  religion"  he  knew  it  by  the  expansion  of  his  love 
nature;  that  it  would  induct  him  into  a  feeling  of  love 
for  everybody.     Whether  this  is  so  or  not  I  cannot 


294  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

say;  but  I  am  sure  that  when  I  got  rid  of  rny  religion 
I  came  into  this  feeling  with  great  force.  I  loved 
every  living  soul;  even  the  animals  and  plants  came 
in  for  a  large  share.  I  was  so  happy  I  can  hardly 
convey  an  idea  of  it. 

It  is  surprising  how  little  we  know  of  our  neighbors 
until  a  change  of  position  brings  us  into  new  relations 
with  them.  On  the  farm  south  of  us  there  was  a  man 
who  seemed  to  live  particularly  secluded;  and  the 
same  may  be  said  of  his  entire  family.  Nobody  knew 
what  the  religious  sentiments  of  the  family  were,  and 
nobody  seemed  to  care.  They  were  straight-forward, 
honest  people  and  gave  no  one  any  trouble. 

The  news  of  my  unexampled  treatment  of  the 
preachers  traversed  the  neighborhood  like  wildfire, 
and  reached  this  person,  whose  name  was  John  Berber. 
The  school  master — a  man  of  great  learning — had 
boarded  with  Mr.  Berber  for  years.  No  one  knew  any 
more  of  the  schoolmaster's  religion  than  of  Mr. 
Berber's.  But  in  less  than  a  week  after  my  escapade 
these  two  gentlemen  came  to  see  me.  They  were 
both  perfectly  independent  in  their  religious  views, 
and  held  very  broad  opinions  on  many  subjects.  They 
were  deeply  versed  in  the  sciences,  and  were  in  every 
way  unusually  wise  men,  as  well  as  genial,  just  and 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  295 

humorous.  They  gave  me  Paine's  "Age  of  Reason" 
to  read;  and  the  unshakable  arguments  of  that  splen- 
did book  never  left  my  mind. 

But  it  was  not  in  me  to  stand  still,  content  with  the 
mere  denial  of  religion.  The  claims  of  religion  were 
false,  but  there  was  truth  somewhere  and  I  must  have 
it.  Simply  to  have  the  terror  of  hell  destroyed,  and 
the  whole  absurd  scheme  of  salvation  exploded  did  not 
satisfy  long.  I  was  hungry  for  more  knowledge,  and 
could  not  rest  without  it. 

As  if  in  answer  to  my  desire  an  old  man  who  lived 
in  the  Montezuma  hills,  about  twenty  miles  away 
from  our  house,  got  caught  in  the  rain  one  evening  in 
passing  and  had  to  remain  all  night.  He  was  a 
Swedenborgian,  and  he  talked  Swedenborgian  religion 
until  midnight. 

After  that  he  lent  me  Swedenborg's  books,  of  which 
there  seemed  to  be  an  almost  endless  quantity,  and  I 
began  to  study  them. 

I  studied  them  thoroughly,  bending  my  whole  mind 
to  the  task.  It  was  my  peculiarity  to  believe  that 
every  new  idea  I  got  hold  of  was  the  saving  truth  my 
soul  was  longing  for,  provided  only  that  I  could 
understand  it  thoroughly. 

I   will   not    deny   that   I   got   something    out    of 


296  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

Swedenborg;  but  the  best  thing  I  got  was  the  result 
of  my  intense  application  in  the  effort  to  get  his 
system  as  a  complete  whole.  The  thorough  bending 
of  the  mind  to  the  accomplishment  of  an  object  always 
brings  a  big  reward;  and  my  reward  came  in  the 
growth  of  my  reasoning  faculties. 

I  never  accepted  the  Swedenborgian  gospel  in  its 
entirety.  I  had  become  footloose  and  was  beginning 
to  be  individualized.  I  was  forever  broken  of  the 
habit  of  pinning  my  faith  to  some  other  person's 
sleeve,  even  if  that  person  held  daily  audience  with 
the  unseen  powers.  I  was  becoming  indifferent  to  the 
unseen  powers,  and  was  getting  a  mental  reef  on 
mundane  things. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


IN   THE   REFORM   MOVEMENT. 

All  my  life  I  had  had  an  aspiration  to  become  a 
literary  woman.  My  efforts  in  this  direction  were 
numerous  and  my  failures  many  and  disheartening. 

It  is  true  that  I  had  almost  no  time  to  spare  from 
my  household  duties  in  which  either  to  read  or  write, 
but  somehow  I  managed  to  do  both.  I  hurried 
through  my  work,  stopping  at  intervals  to  run  and 
put  down  an  idea,  until  after  a  week  or  a  month  I 
had  a  magazine  article.  At  least  it  was  a  magazine 
article  until  it  was  returned  with  the  word  "unavail- 
able" from  the  publisher  to  whom  I  sent  it. 

Thi3  sort  of  thing  made  me  sick  in  the  beginning, 
but  I  got  case-hardened  after  awhile,  so  that  I  was 
able  to  control  my  disappointment  somewhat,  but  I 
cannot  say  that  I  ever  enjoyed  the  experience. 

It  is  a  surprise  to  me  now,  in  looking  back,  to  think 
how  I  stuck  to  the  effort  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  so 
many  doors  were  shut  in  my  face.  uSlam,  bang,  get 
out  of  here,"  seemed  to  be  the  universal  attitude  to- 

297 


298  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

wards  my  literary  aspiration.  I  laugh  now  as  I  think 
of  it,  but  it  was  no  laughing  matter  then.  I  laugh 
still  more  as  I  think  of  my  indefatigable  persistence; 
this  is  something  not  only  to  laugh  about,  but  to  be 
proud  of.  No  one  ever  followed  the  life  line  of  desire 
with  more  untiring  patience  than  I  did.  Of  course 
this  perseverance  had  to  lead  me  somewhere,  and 
where  could  it  lead  me  but  in  the  direction  I  wanted 
to  go;  in  the  direction  I  was  travelling? 

After  I  went  back  to  the  farm  from  San  Francisco 
I  became  very  restless.  Every  fibre  of  my  body  and 
brain  rebelled  against  the  drudgery  of  the  farm  life. 
Hope,  always  strong  within  me,  was  filling  me  with 
the  idea  that  I  could  write  articles  that  would  sell  if 
I  only  had  the  time  to  devote  to  it.  It  was  impossible 
to  put  this  hope  to  the  test  while  doing  slave's  work 
at  least  twelve  hours  a  day. 

The  doctor  gave  me  no  encouragement  and  no 
sympathy.  He  had  no  hesitation  in  piling  more  and 
more  work  on  me.  He  had  discovered  a  vein  of  quick- 
silver on  our  land,  and  was  prospecting  it.  So  in 
addition  to  the  work  of  the  farm  I  had  to  cook  for  a 
crowd  of  miners.  I  remonstrated  without  avail.  He 
seemed  to  consider  me  a  machine  with  power  to  run 
day  and  night.     He  had  consideration  for  his  horses 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  299 

and  for  his  men  and  for  himself,  but  none  for  me. 
This,  of  course,  was  because  I  failed  to  define  and 
maintain  my  own  position.  Who  will  say  what  is  our 
due  if  we  do  not  say  it  ourselves? 

Ada  and  Florence  at  this  time  had  gotten  through 
the  school  in  San  Jose  where  I  left  them  when  I 
returned  to  the  ranch  from  San  Francisco,  and  were 
then  learning  the  printer's  trade  in  the  town  adjoining 
our  place.     So  they  were  not  far  from  home. 

Little  Jenny  was  dead.  Claude  was  away  at  school, 
and  I  was  really  in  a  position  where  I  could  assert  my 
freedom  for  the  first  time  in  my  married  life. 

And  I  did  assert  it.  The  day  arrived  when  the 
crowd  of  miners  and  the  doctor  with  them  came  to 
dinner  and  found  a  cold  stove  and  an  empty  house. 

Directly  after  breakfast  I  had  stood  out  in  the  road 
with  a  valise  containing  the  smallest  imaginable 
wardrobe,  but  all  I  had,  waiting  for  some  passing 
wagon  to  take  me  into  town.  I  had  not  long  to  wait, 
and  soon  found  myself  at  the  boarding  house  of  my 
two  daughters.  I  had  no  money,  and  as  the  girls 
were  on  board  wages,  not  having  learned  the  trade 
sufficiently  to  earn  more,  I  undertook  the  task  of 
borrowing  ten  dollars  to  pay  my  expenses  to  the  city. 
I  ran  over  the  town  the  entire  day,  and  it  was  late  at 


300  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

night  before  I  found  a  friend  who  could  let  me  have 
this  small  sum. 

The  next  morning  I  was  on  the  stage  en  route  for 
San  Francisco.  I  reached  the  city  with  $2.50  in  my 
purse.  I  paid  one  dollar  for  a  night's  lodging  and 
then  began  to  search  for  a  room.  I  found  one  in  an 
attic  that  was  not  unpleasant,  and  paid  my  remaining 
$1.50  for  it  for  one  week  in  advance.  I  was  not 
hungry,  for  I  had  the  remnants  of  a  lunch  that  I  had 
brought  with  me  from  Lower  Lake. 

I  started  out  to  hunt  a  situation  in  some  publishing 
house.  It  was  three  days  after  the  last  bite  of  my 
food  was  gone  before  I  found  a  place  in  a  printing 
office,  where  I  was  to  superintend  and  write  for  a  poor, 
little  struggling  paper  at  the  sum  of  six  dollars  a 
week. 

I  had  become  so  light-headed  and  so  incapable  of 
thinking  that  I  barely  escaped  being  run  over  in 
the  street  more  than  once.  But  I  adhered  to  my 
purpose.  I  had  said  to  myself  many  times  over,  UI 
am  going  to  have  life  on  my  own  terms,  or  I  won't 
have  it  at  all." 

I  was  a  first-class  cook  and  housekeeper,  and  I  could 
have  gotten  dozens  of  such  situations,  but  I  would  not 
have  them.     I  would  starve  first.     If  food  served  no 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  301 

better  purpose  than  to  nourish  me  in  my  old  con- 
ditions I  did  not  want  it.  And  I  was  not  hungry  at 
all.  I  was  cold,  and  felt  as  if  I  were  floating,  and  I 
could  not  think  consecutively,  although  I  held  to  my 
resolution  to  keep  out  of  housework.  I  had  had 
enough  of  that;  I  would  never  touch  it  again.  And 
in  the  old  slavish  sense  I  never  have  done  so.  A 
resolution  so  firm  as  to  defy  death  becomes  an  organic 
thing,  arid  takes  its  place  among  the  unchangeable 
entities  of  personality  in  a  way  that  no  power  can 
shake.  I  have  established  my  own  defense  in  this 
manner  more  than  once,  though  this  was  the  first 
time. 

The  man  for  whom  I  was  working  advanced  me  a 
dollar,  and  it  sufficed  until  the  first  week's  wages  were 
paid. 

Out  of  six  dollars  a  week  I  paid  the  borrowed  ten 
dollars  the  first  thing.  Then  I  saved  up  my  money 
to  bring  Ada  to  me.  In  the  meantime  a  large  pub- 
lisher in  the  next  street  began  to  notice  my  writings 
and  asked  me  to  write  for  one  of  his  publications.  I 
did  so.  I  wrote  an  article  for  him  that  attracted  a 
good  deal  of  attention.  If  he  had  paid  me  as  he  paid 
his  other  contributors  I  would  have  received  forty 
dollars   for   it.     But  he   declined  to  pay  for   it,  and 


302  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

promised  to  befriend  me  in  other  ways,  such  as  giving 
my  daughters  each  a  position  in  his  office.  It  was  on 
this  promise  that  I  brought  Ada  to  the  city  where  she 
entered  his  employment  on  a  good  salary. 

And  Ada  and  I  together  soon  brought  Florence,  and 
she,  too,  got  an  engagement  in  the  same  building. 
By  this  time  I  had  resigned  my  poor  little  attic  room 
and  was  in  a  small  flat  where  our  united  wages  made 
us  very  comfortable  and  independent  and  happy. 

Neither  was  it  long  until  I  had  a  more  remunerative 
position  than  the  first  one  I  accepted.  Besides  the 
regular  salary  I  derived  from  this  position,  I  began  to 
sell  articles  to  the  papers  and  magazines;  and  I  was 
rich.     I  will  never  be  richer  than  I  was  then. 

Bret  Harte  had  just  gone  off  The  Overland  Monthly 
as  its  editor  when  I  began  to  write  for  it.  It  was 
something  to  write  for  The  Overland.  I  really  believe 
this  magazine  was  the  best  representative  of  American 
thought  of  any  other  publication.  It  was  the  most 
vital,  the  most  uniquely  charming,  the  most  strikingly 
characteristic  of  the  entire  lot  of  magazines.  It  was 
original;  it  dared  be  the  best  its  editors  knew  in  the 
field  of  literature.  It  did  not  hug  any  public  foibles 
and  seemed  not  to  seek  popularity  as  the  others  do. 

I  do  not  mean  that  it  was  a  leader  in  what  we  call 


A   8EARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  303 

reform  work.  It  attempted  nothing*  of  the  kind.  It 
simply  led  in  a  fresher  and  more  vigorous  expression 
of  literary  ideas.  It  published  articles  then  that  the 
other  magazines  dared  not  publish  for  fear  of  trans- 
gressing some  old  preconceived  opinions  of  literary 
correctness.  It  took  a  position  close  down  to  nature 
and  became  a  transcription  of  natural  people  and 
natural  thought.  It  waked  one  up  as  one  read  it, 
and  made  the  heart  warm  with  the  glow  of  kinship  in 
everything  it  contained. 

Later  The  Overland  passed  into  other  hands  which 
sought  what  is  considered  the  popular  vein,  and  it 
became  as  commonplace  as  the  others.  But  at  the 
time  it  was  simply  perfect  in  its  way,  as  the  represent- 
ative of  the  fresh,  vivid,  young  thought  of  a  fresh, 
vivid,  young  country. 

My  writings  were  welcomed  by  this  magazine  at 
that  time  and  I  was  well  paid  for  them.  Later — when 
the  magazine  had  changed,  as  I  have  mentioned — my 
articles  were  no  longer  received;  and,  indeed,  all  of  us 
pioneer  writers  gradually  disappeared  from  its  pages. 
That  this  change  was  not  approved  of  became  man- 
ifest in  the  falling  off  of  its  subscription  list,  until  at 
one  time  its  publication  was  suspended.  A  year  or 
two   afterwards   the   magazine   was   resurrected   and 


304  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

placed  on  its  feet  again;  but  it  has  never  exhibited 
any  marked  character  of  its  own  since. 

As  a  writer,  I  came  in  contact  with  a  good  many 
minds  that  were  considered  quite  brilliant,  but  I  must 
say  that  close  acquaintance  rather  had  the  effect  of 
pushing  me  away  instead  of  drawing  me  to  them. 
The  egotism  of  so  many  small  aspirants  after  literary 
glory  taught  me  a  valuable  lesson;  this  was  to  lock 
my  own  egotism  carefully  away  and  throw  the  key 
down  the  well. 

I  am  not  going  to  pretend  that  I  had  no  egotism, 
but  I  do  say  that  I  saw  the  mistake  of  manifesting  it, 
and  this  gave  me  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the 
most  modest  of  the  young  writers;  which  reminds  me 
of  an  old  axiom:  "Assume  a  virtue  that  you  have  not 
got,  and  after  many  days  you  will  really  have  it."  Or 
perhaps  you  will  only  appear  to  have  it. 

But  all  this  time  I  was  growing  in  the  power  to 
think,  and  I  was  beginning  to  think  on  new  lines.  In 
consequence  of  being  on  a  reform  paper  it  was  my 
duty  to  keep  track  of  the  labor  movement  as  it  was 
then  developing  in  San  Francisco.  I  attended  the 
meetings  of  the  various  labor  factions  quite  freely, 
and  was  often  called  on  for  a  speech,  but  had  not  the 
courage  to  attempt  it. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  305 

When  I  first  began  to  go  to  these  meetings  I  had 
great  sympathy  for  the  laborers;  but  on  close  ac- 
quaintance with  them  I  lost  it.  I  soon  saw  that  not 
more  than  one  in  a  hundred  had  any  higher  ambition 
than  to  change  places  with  his  employer,  so  that  he 
might  have  it  in  his  power  to  live  without  work.  The 
exceptional  cme  in  a  hundred,  by  virtue  of  superior  in- 
telligence, soon  raised  himself  to  a  better  position 
where  he  became  satisfied  that  the  law  of  evolution 
was  able  to  express  itself  in  him  without  any  more 
fuss  on  his  part. 

It  was  here  that  I  began  to  see  the  might  of  in- 
dividuality. I  soon  knew  that  individualization  was 
salvation,  and  that  every  effort  short  of  it  could  only 
be  palliative.  Men  must  be  men  before  they  could 
earn  the  reward  of  manhood. 

It  is  very  true  that  the  capitalists  against  whom  the 
efforts  of  the  laborers  were  arrayed,  were  no  more  men 
in  the  true  sense  than  the  laborers  were.  I  saw  that 
their  accumulations  were  mere  fortuitious  aggrega- 
tions on  the  animal  plane;  but  this  fact  did  not 
invalidate  my  position  so  far  as  the  laborer  was  con- 
cerned. He  was  not  any  more  of  a  man  because  his 
employer  fell  short  of  the  mark.  In  fact,  I  found 
that  there  was  very  little  manhood  to  be  discovered 


306  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

in  the  entire  pot  of  mush;  and  from  writing  sym- 
pathetically and  generously  about  them  as  I  had 
formerly  done,  I  began  to  score  them  with  burning 
words  and  a  pen  that  quivered  with  indignation. 

To  think  that  they  should  be  content  to  meet  at 
stated  periods  for  the  simple  purpose  of  airing  their 
grievances,  and  abusing  the  men  for'  whom  they 
were  working,  began  to  look  like  a  confession  of 
weakness  to  me.  "Either  do  something  or  shut  up," 
I  used  to  say  when  they  approached  me  individually. 
UI  am  tired  of  your  make  believe  in  courage  and  man- 
hood. There  is  not  a  man  among  you,  and  you  know 
it;  or  you  would  know  it  if  yo'u  knew  what  it  required 
to  constitute  a  man/1 

In  the  meantime,  however,  my  articles  began  to 
attract  some  attention  outside  of  San  Francisco,  and  I 
had  an  offer  from  the  Chicago  Express,  then  the  lead- 
ing paper  in  the  world  in  the  reform  movement,  to  go 
on  its  editorial  staff. 

Ada  was  just  married,  and  Florence  would  soon  be; 
and  I  accepted  the  offer. 

But  even  when  I  went  to  Chicago  I  was  almost 
ready  for  emancipation  from  the  movement  I  was 
writing  for;  and  it  was  only  a  little  over  a  year  until 
I  gave  it  my  parting  thrust  in  the  following  article: 


A  8EARCH  FOR  FREEDOM.  307 

SLAVE8  AND  MASTERS. 

I  know  the  slave-driver  and  I  know  the  slave,  and  I 
say  that  the  slave-driver,  selfish  as  he  is,  is  a  gentle- 
man in  comparison  with  the  slave.  There  is  nothing 
in  all  the  world  so  ignoble  as  a  slave.  He  is  in  his 
true  position  so  long  as  he  willingly  bears  his  servitude. 
He  is  fit  for  nothing  else.  Why  should  I  care  that 
his  back  is  bent  with  the  burdens  of  another?  Why 
should  I  be  distressed  at  his  wrongs?  His  wrongs  are 
his  rights  so  long  as  he  bears  them  willingly.  That 
which  would  be  the  wrongs  of  freemen  are  for  him 
his  just  deserts. 

I  mean  to  speak  the  truth  from  this  time  on.  I 
have  coddled  the  slave  and  called  him  a  man,  when  I 
knew  there  was  no  manhood  in  him.  I  will  do  it  no 
longer.  On  the  contrary,  1  mean  to  assert  everywhere 
and  on  all  occasions  that  he  who  wears  a  fetter  needs 
it;  that  he  who  bears  a  kick,  deserves  it.  I  wash  my 
hands  of  spirits  so  slavish  as  to  take  part  in  the  in- 
justice that  is  crushing  them.  Moreover,  I  say  that 
the  bent  back  of  the  laborer,  the  horny  hands,  the 
coarse,  distorted  features,  and  the  general  ugliness 
that  marks  him,  are  a  confession  of  his  own  sins  in 
abetting  the  sins  of  his  master. 

I  desire  to  speak  face  to  face  to  you,  the  slaves  of 


308  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

the  nineteenth  century;  to  tell  you  how  I  have  seen 
every  effort  made  by  philanthropists  for  your  benefit 
fall  to  the  ground  worthless,  because  your  own  base 
influence  was  against  it.  There  are  labor  papers 
working  for  you  to  which  you  have  never  contributed 
the  cost  of  a  drink  of  whisky.  I  have  seen  more  and 
worse  than  this;  that  you  have  no  respect  for  any 
man  but  the  one  that  kicks  you;  and  no  trust  in  any 
power  but  that  which  crushes  you. 

You  are  the  obstacle,  the  only  obstacle,  in  the  way 
of  race  emancipation.  Your  masters  are  a  handful; 
you  are  legion.  Your  masters  are  intelligent,  and 
though  they  will  not  voluntarily  relax  their  selfish 
grip  on  the  good  things  of  this  world,  not  one  of 
them  would  dare  refuse  if  you  stood  up  for  your 
rights.  But  you  are  more  besotted  with  the  far-off 
dazzle  of  their  gold  than  they  are  with  its  possession. 
They  have  moments  when  they  reflect  how  their 
money  has  been  gathered  at  your  expense;  moments 
when  they  almost  wish  that  the  system  that  fosters 
robbery,  that  makes  gold  king,  that  puts  in  abeyance 
every  noble  impulse,  could  be  changed.  But  you 
adore  the  system;  you  doff  the  ragged  cap  and  bend 
the  servile  knee  before  the  baser  part  of  these  men's 
natures,  and  your  only  desire  for  liberty  is  for  the 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  8Q9 

sake  of  emulating  their  vices  instead  of  their  virtues. 
They  know  this,  and  they  know  that  a  social  rupture 
that  would  transform  you  into  millionaires  at  their 
expense  would  be  the  greatest  possible  calamity. 

For  these  men,  selfish  as  they  are,  have  benefited 
the  race  through  the  thrift  of  enterprise.  They  have 
built  railroads  and  made  the  different  races  of  men  as 
one  nation.  They  have  utilized  your  dumb  energies 
to  serve  mankind  in  serving  themselves.  They  have 
used  you  as  machines,  running  your  services  at  the 
lowest  cost  compatible  with  your  lives,  until  at  last 
they  begin  to  supplant  you  with  cheaper  wood  and 
iron.  And  all  this  because  they  could  do  it;  because 
you  permitted  it. 

They  have  done  right.  You  were  and  are  as  worth- 
less as  the  dirt  under  your  feet,  except  for  the  power 
of  physical  contraction  and  expansion  in  your  muscles. 
You  will  not  think.  The  moment  one  of  you  begins 
to  think  he  ceases  to  belong  to  that  class  to  whom 
this  article  is  addressed.  Your  faces  are  prone  to  the 
ground  to  which  your  worn-out  bodies  are  rapidly 
hastening.  You  plod  and  delve  from  day  to  day, 
never  casting  admiring  eyes  aloft,  except  when  your 
masters  with  liveried  attendants  splash  mud  over  you 
from  their  carriage  wheels  as  they  pass  in  haughty 
splendor. 


310  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

And  you  have  the  privileges  of  citizenship  in  a  land 
where  such  privilege  is  denied  by  you  to  those  whose 
intelligence  ten  generations  of  culture  will  scarcely 
enable  you  to  comprehend — the  intelligent  women  of 
these  States.  And  what  is  more,  being  in  the  majority, 
you  hold  this  magnificent  element  in  check,  and  pre- 
vent its  pure  current  and  turn  it  away  from  that 
point  where  it  would  be  of  incalculable  benefit,  and 
where  above  all  other  influences  it  would  benefit  you 
and  lift  you  out  of  your  down-trodden  condition.  For 
American  women  above  all  others  are  your  sym- 
pathizers. They  resent  for  you  the  wrongs  your 
craven  souls  accept.  And  you  turn  up  your  noses 
contemptuously  when  reference  is  made  to  their 
political  equality. 

What  are  you  going  to  do?  Your  muscles,  the 
only  part  of  you  your  masters  ever  needed,  have  been 
supplanted  by  the  more  economical  substitution  of 
machinery.  Are  you  willing  to  cumber  the  earth  as 
useless  lumber,  or  are  you  willing  to  come  up  to  the 
dignity  of  manhood  by  an  effort  to  comprehend  the 
true  situation  and  to  arouse  within  your  brains  the 
thought  that  will  meet  it?  There  are  only  two  ways 
for  you.  Your  muscles  are  superseded.  The  demand 
for   them   become?   continually   more   limited.      The 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  311 

world  calls  on  all  men  now  for  brain.  It  asks  you  for 
thought,  that  through  thought  it  may  develop  the 
finer  and  as  yet  unexplored  forces  of  nature.  If  you 
refuse  to  respond  to  this  call,  there  remains  the  other 
alternative — to  die  and  give  place  to  those  who  are 
susceptible  to  the  higher  impulses  of  a  more  refined 
age. — Chicago  Express. 

This  article  to  a  superficial  thinker  seems  hard  and 
cruel;  but  it  is  neither.  It  is  simple  truth.  The 
slaves  of  labor  are  where  they  are  because  they  will 
not  use  their  brains.  Thought  has  power  to  redeem 
them  by  showing  them  a  true  estimate  of  their  own 
worth.  But  so  long  as  they  will  not  think  they  are 
not  men.  They  are  on  a  lower  plane  than  that  of 
men,  and  they  are  receiving  treatment  in  conformity 
with  the  plane  they  are  on.  They  have  only  their 
own  ignorance  to  blame,  and  this  is  what  they  never 
think  of  blaming. 

Intelligence  is  the  lifting  power.  Intelligence  in- 
dividualizes. No  man  can  seek  a  knowledge  of  him- 
self introspectively  without  discovering  the  rudiments 
of  godhood  within  him.  It  is  this  discovery  which 
gradually  lifts  him  in  the  scale  of  being  to  a  place 
where  he  looks  with  level  eyes  into  the  face  of  all 
other  men.      When  he  is  able  to  do  this  his  fetters — 


312  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

no  matter  what  they  have  been — actually  fall.  Better 
positions  in  business  open  up  to  him;  better  surround- 
ings come  about  him  in  answer  to  his  increased 
consciousness  of  power.  Let  a  man  once  proclaim 
himself  a  freeman  from  this  high  point  of  intellectual 
seeing,  and  all  the  world  hastens  to  respond. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


A   GLIMPSE   OF   THE   PROMISED   LAND. 

In  finishing  the  previous  chapter,  I  jumped  an  inter- 
val of  at  least  two  years,  and  perhaps  more;  and  I  must 
retrace  my  steps  in  order  to  give  my  readers  a  true 
idea  of  how  my  growing  thought  was  pushing  me  on 
and  away  from  the  pessimistic  beliefs  that  had  led  me 
into  the  kicking  field  of  reform. 

In  first  looking  abroad  over  the  world,  and  see- 
ing the  inequality  of  position  among  the  masses,  we 
naturally  resent  it,  and  begin  to  search  for  some 
person  or  persons  to  whom  we  lay  the  blame.  In 
California  where  the  capitalist  flourished  in  extra- 
ordinary glory,  and  where  his  tyranny  was  more  felt 
than  in  other  states,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  mass 
of  the  laborers  there  were  the  sons  of  the  bravest  men 
that  the  republic  has  produced,  namely,  the  pioneers 
who  cut  their  way  through  such  enormous  obstacles 
to  reach  the  state  in  1849,  there  was  the  loudest 
possible  call  for  sympathy  and  assistance  from  one  so 
situated  as  I  had  been. 

313 


314  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

I  wanted  somebody  to  blame  for  the  situation; 
somebody  besides  the  laborers  themselves,  and  I  be- 
came a  very  acceptable  writer  on  an  antagonistic  plane 
of  effort. 

I  believed  that  certain  social  and  political  reform 
was  all  that  was  necessary  to  enable  men  and  women 
to  rise  in  the  scale  of  being,  to  much  higher  positions 
of  thought  and  action  than  have  ever  yet  been  at- 
tained. And  so  I  worked  for  the  accomplishment  of 
this  end.  That  is,  I  did  my  little  best  for  it.  I  was 
an  unknown  writer,  and  my  influence  was  small;  but 
I  was  in  earnest  and  put  my  whole  soul  in  my  work, 
believing  in  it  with  great  fervency. 

But  at  every  step  I  was  disappointed.  The  people 
themselves  for  whom  I  wa»  laboring  were  the  greatest 
disappointment  of  all.  They  were  dead  to  any  sense 
of  power  within  theuiselves,  and  were  only  alive  to 
what  they  considered  their  wrongs.  No  thoughts  of 
a  higher  intellectual  growth  stimulated  them  in  their 
effort  to  obtain  greater  financial  independence.  Their 
ideas  of  liberty — if  gratified — would  lead  in  the  direc- 
tion of  unbridled  license.  They  knew  nothing  of 
freedom  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word.  They  had  no 
idea  that  their  fetters  were  of  their  making,  no  less 
than  their  masters,  and  were  all  to  be  resolved  into  one 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  315 

short  sentence — complete  ignorance  of  their  own  un- 
developed possibilities.  They  cared  nothing  for  these 
possibilities.  They  would  not  institute  within  them- 
aelves  the  search  for  what  they  needed  in  order  to 
secure  liberty.  They  did  not  know,  and  did  not  seem 
to  wish  to  know,  that  each  man  holds  his  own  heaven 
in  his  personality,  and  that  the  careful  unfolding  of 
that  personality  will  yield  him  all  there  is.  They  pre- 
ferred the  clashing  of  opinions  that  were  not  based 
upon  the  foundation  where  individual  growth  begins, 
but  instead  were  the  mixed  outcome  of  life's  mistaken 
beliefs. 

Instead  of  growing  nearer  to  these  people  in  sym- 
pathy, I  was  growing  away  from  them.  At  first  I  did 
not  see  the  drift  of  this  thing,  and  made  many  futile 
attempts  to  regain  my  interest.  I  got  so  1  hated  to 
write  a  reform  article,  and  as  to  reading  one  from  any 
of  the  numerous  exchanges,  I  simply  could  not  do  it. 

It  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  describe  the  confu- 
sion of  mind  I  was  in.  My  duties  in  the  office  of  the 
Chicago  Express — though  very  light — became  a  night- 
mare. Major  Smith,  the  owner  of  the  paper,  was 
generosity  itself.  He  was,  and  is,  one  of  the  noblest 
men  I  have  ever  met;  my  fast  friend  then  and  now; 
and  if  every  soul  on  earth  should  prove  a  disappoint- 


316  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

ment,  the  remembrance  of  him,  his  splendid  manhood, 
his  loyalty  to  his  highest  convictions  of  truth,  and, 
indeed,  his  whole  mentality  would  always  stand  before 
me  in  justification  of  my  unshaken  faith  in   the  god-* 
hood  of  man. 

I  am  conscious  now  that  Major  Smith  himself  was 
also  losing  interest  in  the  people  for  whom  he  was 
laboring  so  faithfully;  but  at  the  time  I  went  off  the 
paper,  he  did  not  know  it.  He  was  still  putting  every 
effort  of  his  strong,  great  life  into  his  work,  regardless 
of  the  fact  that  those  for  whom  he  thought  and 
labored  and  sacrificed  were  so  irresponsive  and  un- 
thankful. He  went  out  of  the  paper  later,  and  has 
since  applied  his  fine  business  ability  to  building  up 
another  enterprise,  which  has  been  wonderfully  suc- 
cessful. 

But  when  I  left  the  Express  he  was  displeased.  He 
had  the  right  to  think  me  ungrateful.  My  action 
must  have  looked  so  to  him.  But  I  could  not  remain 
in  the  work.  It  is  true  that  I  was  then  incapable  of 
analyzing  the  impulse  which  prompted  me  so  power- 
fully to  abandon  it  forever.  I  only  recognized  the 
impulse,  and  I  was  obedient  to  it. 

I  had  come  to  feel  my  work  degrading  to  the  higher 
possibilities  of  my  brain,  although  I  was  unable  to  get 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  317 

even  a  glimpse  of  what  those  possibilities  might  be. 
I  have  been  almost  recklessly  obedient  to  that  some- 
thing which  constantly  goes  before  us,  alluring  us 
onward.  I  have  said  a  thousand  times  that  my  lack 
of  success  lay  in  the  fact  of  my  incapability  to  be  true 
to  any  idea  or  any  line  of  thought  or  action  long 
enough  to  carry  it  to  completion.  I  did  not  know  that 
this  was  mental  growth,  and  so  deplored  it  as  being 
the  one  element  in  my  character  that  prevented  me 
from  making  a  success  of  anything  I  attempted. 

To  illustrate.  The  morning  came,  when,  after  drag- 
ging myself  to  the  Express  office,  I  sat  at  my  desk 
gloomy  and  despondent.  I  went  presently  to  the 
Major's  desk,  and  told  him  I  wished  to  start  a  paper  of 
my  own.  He  let  me  know  that  the  sea  of  journalism 
was  very  tempestuous,  and  many  barks  were  wrecked 
in  it;  and  of  the  few  that  succeeded  only  a  very  small 
number  were  real  successes.  He  begged  me,  for  my 
own  interest,  to  remain  where  I  was.  When  he  saw 
that  his  argument  failed  to  shake  me,  he  turned  back 
to  his  desk  very  gravely,  and  I  felt  that  if  I  left  his 
employment  under  the  circumstances  I  would  lose  the 
best  friend  I  had  in  the  world. 

On  the  road  of  progress  it  often  happens  that  the 
warmest  friendship  may  become  a  tyranny  that  has  to 


318  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

be  broken.  Nothing  should  hold  the  outward-bound 
soul,  and  nothing  could  hold  me.     I  would  be  free. 

What  a  compelling  force  the  ideal  is!  And  yet  on 
that  November  morning  I  had  no  glimpse  of  the  ideal 
that  usually  presented  so  many  allurements  for  attract- 
ing me  from  sober  duty.  It  was  simply  the  fact  that 
I  had  reached  the  end  of  another  experience,  and  must 
quit,  and  prospect  for  the  beginning  of  the  line  of 
travel  that  did,  undoubtedly,  unite  with  it,  and  that  I 
was  willing  to  trust  blindly  in  an  effort  to  find. 

I  sat  at  my  desk  deliberately  reasoning  out  the  sit- 
uation. Major  Smith  had  spoken  of  my  bread  and 
butter  as  being  involved  in  my  new  effort.  I  thought 
about  this,  and  anathematized  the  suggestion.  ''What 
do  I  care  for  bread  and  butter  unless  it  feeds  me  to 
the  actualization  of  higher  and  better  hopes?"  I  said. 
"I  don't  want  bread  and  butter  except  on  my  own 
terms.  I  don't  want  life  on  its  present  inharmonious 
plane.  If  there  is  to  be  nothing  better  in  it  than  I 
have  seen  and  felt,  then  it  may  close  to-day  for  all  I 
care." 

As  I  write  these  words  I  go  back  to  that  time;  and 
I  still  believe  the  logic  I  then  used  to  be  one  of  the 
truest  bits  of  wisdom  that  a  growing  soul  can  adopt. 
I  did  really  lose  all  fear  of  want  as  completely  as  if 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  319 

entirely  emancipated  from  every  need  of  our  present 
lives.  I  got  up  and  put  on  my  cloak  and  hood  and 
went  down  into  the  street.  The  morning  had  been 
sunshiny,  but  cold,  when  I  came.  It  was  now  gloomed 
over  despairingly.  I  never  saw  a  more  dismal  sky. 
The  sleet,  borne  on  a  strong  wind,  struck  me  in  the 
face;  the  sidewalks  were  coated  with  ice.  As  I  stood 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  I  opened  my  purse.  I  had 
only  twenty-five  cents  between  me  and  starvation.  I 
had  not  a  friend  in  the  city  but  the  one  I  had  just 
left.  I  was  my  own  sole  dependence.  There  was  no 
prop  in  the  world  on  which  I  could  lean,  and  I  knew 
it  with  the  most  vivid  sense  of  realization.  More  than 
this,  I  knew  that  there  was  no  one  I  wanted  to  lean 
upon.  I  doubt  whether  in  the  history  of  the  race 
there  has  been  a  soul  who  stood  more  erect  in  a  posi- 
tion of  such  complete  isolation.  I  was  so  far  removed 
from  fear  and  anxiety  that  I  gloried  in  my  aloneness. 
I  walked  those  icy  streets  like  a  school  boy  just  freed 
from  restraint.  My  years  fell  from  me  as  completely 
as  if  death  had  turned  my  spirit  loose  in  Paradise. 

Back  to  my  boarding  house  to  face  the  scowls  of 
my  landlord,  whose  prudent  eye  questioned  my  un- 
timely return,  and  who  shrewdly  and  rightly  suspected 
that  next  week's  board  bill  would  go  unpaid.     Then 


320  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

to  my  room  and  to  pen  and  paper.  I  was  fired  by  my 
sense  of  freedom;  and  what  I  wrote  must  have  found 
an  echo  in  hundreds  of  imprisoned  spirits;  for  that 
article  made  my  paper  a  success. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  my  landlord  came  to  my  room, 
embarrassed,  but  resolute.  He  wanted  to  know  how 
matters  stood. 

"Have  you  been  discharged  by  the  chief?11 

"No,  I  discharged  myself.  I  am  not  going  to  be 
anybody's  hired  man  any  longer.11 

"Is  your  bread  insured?11 

"I  don^  concede  your  right  to  question  me,  but  I 
believe  I  am  glad  you  take  the  liberty.  My  bread  is 
insured.11 

"How?11 

"I  am  going  to  start  a  paper  of  my  own,  and  I  am 
going  to  make  it  a  success.  Sit  down  while  I  read  you 
the  first  article  I  have  written  for  it.11 

He  did  so,  and  I  read  the  article.     The  subject  was 

UT  M 

It  was  a  wonderful  article.  I  am  sure  of  this  from 
the  effect  it  produced — not  only  on  my  landlord — but 
on  others.  It  was  a  declaration  of  individuality;  it 
would  have  been  a  protest  against  bonds,  but  for  the 
fact  that  it  sounded  notes  of  freedom  far  above  all 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  321 

thought  of  bonds,  and  clear  out  of  sight  of  them.  It 
had  wings  to  it;  it  arose  aloft;  it  lifted  those  who 
read  it  into  the  air  with  it. 

That  it  had  this  effect  on  me  was  not  surprising: 
but  when  I  saw  its  effect  on  my  landlord  I  was  amazed. 
His  face,  which  was  naturally  sodden,  had  become 
illuminated.  After  a  pause  he  said,  UI  have  perfect 
confidence  in  your  ability  to  succeed.  In  fact  I  am 
ready  to  gamble  on  you.  I  have  twenty  thousand 
dollars  in  bank,  and  you  can  draw  on  me  for  all  you 
need:1 

Then  I  confessed  that  I  was  without  means;  but  I 
refused  to  take  his  money,  only  asking  him  to  wait  a 
few  weeks  on  my  board  bill. 

From  that  time  on,  no  queen  could  have  been  treated 
with  more  courtesy.  One  day  in  my  absence  he  moved 
my  things  down  from  my  single  room  on  the  third 
floor  to  a  lovely  suite  of  three  rooms  on  the  parlor 
floor.  Again  and  again  he  offered  me  money,  which 
I  steadily  refused. 

Fate  was  working  rapidly  in  my  favor  at  that  time. 
Evidently  the  state  of  mental  freedom  I  had  achieved 
was  putting  a  compulsion  on  externals  in  a  very  per- 
emptory way.  And  oh!  how  happy  I  was.  I  drew 
the  design  for  the  heading  of  my  pappr,  and  was  so 


322  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

pleased  with  it  that  several  times  I  got  up  in  the  night 
to  look  at  it.  I  took  it  to  the  lithographer  and  had  a 
plate  made.  It  was  sent  to  me  by  a  boy  several  days 
later  without  the  bill. 

When  my  writing  was  quite  finished  I  went  to  the 
largest  publishing  house  in  the  city  and  ordered  twenty 
thousand  copies  of  the  paper,  to  be  delivered  at  ray 
rooms  on  a  certain  day. 

In  the  meantime  I  was  addressing  wrappers  as  fast 
as  I  could,  and  makiug  other  preparations  for  mailing 
sample  copies. 

On  the  third  day  after  they  were  mailed  I  got  $11.00 
on  subscription.  This  was  wealth.  The  next  day 
brought  more.  Not  long  afterwards  a  rich  man  in 
Boston  sent  me  a  check  for  $250.00.  Another  sent 
$25.00,  and  others  from  $5.00  to  $10.00.  It  was  the 
clarion  tones  of  that  article  on  the  "I/1  that  caught 
the  public.  I  wish  I  had  the  article  now;  but  I  have 
lost  it.  I  have  written  several  articles  since  then  on 
the  same  subject,  but  the  pure  bell  metal  was  lacking 
in  the  tone  of  all  of  them.  Not  one  produced  the 
effect  that  the  first  one  did. 

It  was  the  mood  I  was  in  that  made  the  first  one 
what  it  was.  I  was  free;  for  the  time  being  I  had 
achieved  an  extraordinary  height  in  human  experience, 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  323 

and  I  wrote  from  that  height.  I  was  absolutely  fear- 
less. The  thought  of  poverty  or  any  coming  trouble 
could  not  daunt  me.  Every  form  of  anxiety  was  be- 
neath me.  The  doubts  of  my  own  ability  to  succeed, 
which  had  always  haunted  my  mind,  were  entirely 
gone.     Heavens,  what  an  attitude  it  was! 

If  I  could  have  remained  there,  who  knows  what 
might  have  happened?  I  believe  this  is  what  Jesus 
meant  when  he  said,  "If  I  be  lifted  up  from  the 
earth,  I  will  draw  all  men  unto  me." 

To  be  lifted  is  simply  to  be  freed  from  the  doubts 
and  fears  born  of  the  world's  ignorant  beliefs  with 
regard  to  man's  capacity.  Being  freed  from  doubts 
and  fears  for  a  time,  I  was  lifted. 

It  is  true  that  I  tumbled  down  to  the  race  level 
again,  but  the  experience  has  been  worth  more  than  a 
hundred  ordinary  lives  to  me.  It  taught  me  a  mighty 
lesson.  If  I  could  reach  that  position  once,  even  for  an 
hour,  then  it  was  possible  for  me  to  reach  it  and  remain 
in  it  forever.  And  if  possible  for  me,  then  it  was 
possible  for  all.  There  must  be  some  basis  of  brain 
force — though  scarcely  developed  in  any  one — from 
which  such  thoughts  as  I  had  could  be  projected.  It 
was  unreasonable  not  to  see  this;  and  to-day  it  is  my 
hope  and  the  hope  of  the  world  that  such  basis  does 


324  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

exist  in  the  human  organism,  and  that  time,  intro- 
spection and  patient  effort  will  develop  it. 

And  if  developed,  what  then?  This  question  did 
not  face  me  for  immediate  solution.  It  was  a  question 
that  shaped  itself  in  the  years  that  followed.  Neither 
did  it  actually  begin  with  the  experience  I  have  re- 
corded. There  were  years  of  close  observation  and 
earnest,  though  broken  and  disjointed  thought  that 
led  up  to  it. 

I  wonder  now  how  far  back  it  was  when  I  conceived 
the  idea  that  man  had  it  in  him  to  conquer  all  things, 
even  death?  It  must  have  beej.  born  with  me.  It 
made  me  a  physical  coward  and  a  mental  hero.  This 
seemed  a  great  misfortune  for  a  long  time.  But  now 
when  life  is  passing  completely  from  a  belief  in  the 
physical  to  a  belief  in  the  mental,  it  will  be  a  misfor- 
tune no  longer. 

For  years  after  I  left  the  church  I  kept  reading  the 
Bible,  with  the  belief  that  I  could  find  a  new  meaning 
to  it.  I  went  through  it  again  and  again.  At  last  I 
thought  I  saw  that  it  held  the  concentrated  hopes  of 
many  ages,  all  pointing  to  the  time  when  man  should 
overcome  death.  And  I  concluded  that  this  was  why 
it  was  preserved  as  holy  writ.  It  was  the  vital  spark 
of  a  hundred  dead  generations,  going  forward  to  rein- 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  325 

carnation  in  a  superior  race  not  yet  born;  a  race  that 
would  be  able  to  overcome.  Oh!  how  the  thought 
took  hold  on  me. 

I  saw  no  way  to  its  fulfillment,  and  yet  I  was  dis- 
posed to  experiment  with  it  in  various  ways.  My 
vivid  imagination  elaborated  many  a  scheme  pointing 
towards  it,  each  of  which  faded,  to  be  replaced  by 
others.  And  so  the  time  passed  and  nothing  seemed 
to  be  done. 

Then  came  the  memorable  period  when  I  stood  alone 
for  a  few  days  in  the  splendor  of  individuality,  and 
saw,  as  in  some  powerful  telescope,  the  mighty  possi- 
bilities of  man;  and  I  knew  that  he  had  no  impedi- 
ment in  his  progress  but  himself;  no  jungle  he  could 
not  penetrate  but  the  jungle  of  his  own  doubts  and 
fears;  no  load  he  could  not  carry  but  that  of  his  own 
self-constructed  anxieties. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


ALL    is    mind:     the    substance    of    which    worlds 

ARE   MADE   IS   MENTAL   SUBSTANCE:       THOUGHT 
HAS    BUILT    THE   VISIBLE    UNIVERSE. 

Whether  it  would  be  better  through  the  remaining 
chapters  of  UA  Search  For  Freedom"  to  confine  myself 
to  the  thought  development,  which  has  established  me 
so  firmly  in  a  belief  of  the  possibility  of  conquering 
all  appearances  of  evil,  even  those  intensely  obdurate 
ones  we  call  old  age  and  death,  or  whether  it  would 
be  more  satisfactory  to  my  readers  for  me  to  tell  of 
my  external  life  and  its  conquests — for  it  has  been  very 
full  of  them — I  am  at  a  loss  to  decide.  At  all  events,  I 
shall  now  give  a  chapter  from  the  unseen  side;  and  let 
the  farther  narration  of  events  rest  with  my  future 
feelings  about  it. 

As  I  gathered  mental  power  from  the  exercise  of 
my  reasoning  faculties,  it  became  more  and  more  ap- 
parent to  me  that  these  faculties  were  limitless,  and 
that  their  unrestrained   growth    through  future  ages 

326 


A   SEARCH   FOB   FREEDOM.  327 

would  enable  us  to  conquer  every  obstacle  that  might 
oppose  us;  that  we  were  virtually  masters  of  life  and 
death  by  reason  of  the  unlimited  power  of  unfoldment 
within  our  own  brains. 

In  all  my  speculations  I  clung  to  the  Bible.  My 
brain  was  so  fertile  in  theories  that  the  very  number 
of  them  confused  me.  I  felt  that  I  needed  ballast; 
and  as  the  Bible  had  previously  been  my  last  resort  in 
every  emergency,  it  became  so  again. 

True,  there  was  a  time,  just  after  my  leaving  the 
church,  that  I  was  afraid  of  the  Bible,  and  turned 
almost  violent  in  my  attitude  toward  it.  I  accused  it 
of  being  my  jailer,  and  trembled  lest  it  take  me  once 
more  into  captivity.  But  I  got  over  this  feeling  and 
made  friends  with  it.  I  began  to  put  my  own  con- 
struction upon  it,  and  a  most  astonishing  construction 
it  was.  It  was  the  book  of  life,  I  thought,  not  because 
a  God  above  and  beyond  our  power  to  comprehend 
had  written  it,  but  because  it  reflected  the  ideal  facul- 
ties of  so  many  of  the  sun-tipped  brains  of  the  race. 

The  magnificent  ideality  in  the  prophets  and  seers, 
whose  hopes  have  been  projected  in  the  book,  pointed 
to  a  time  when  man  should  be  big  enough  intellect- 
ually to  conquer  all  the  seemingly  opposing  forces  in 
life,  and  proclaim  himself  master  of  death. 


328  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

Having  formed  this  belief,  I  then  went  to  work  to 
find  in  the  Bible  the  evidence  necessary  to  establish  it 
more  firmly. 

And  it  is  astonishing  how  much  of  such  evidence  I 
really  found  there.  The  new  construction  I  put  upon 
almost  every  chapter  would  make  a  book  of  great 
interest,  as  a  matter  of  curiosity,  whether  it  would 
possess  any  actual  merit  or  not.  But  to  this  day  it 
seems  to  me  that  from  the  centre  of  self  in  each  in- 
dividual who  wrote  the  Bible,  there  went  out  a  stream 
of  light  leading  far  into  the  future,  and  partly  il- 
luminating the  time  when  man  would  be  a  free  citizen 
of  this  world,  with  power  to  construct  a  most  potent 
heaven  out  of  it.  The  prophecies  relate  to  this  life; 
they  concern  bodies,  and  not  souls;  they  deal  with  this 
world,  and  not  some  future  one. 

Much  of  the  Bible  contains  wonderful  truth  of  a 
purely  metaphysical  character.  Many  of  its  narratives 
are  delineations  of  truths  inherent  in  the  human  con- 
stitution, and  relating  to  certain  phases  of  conscien- 
tious individual  development. 

Who,  for  instance,  has  not  been  in  the  whale's  belly, 
imprisoned  there  for  the  same  reason  that  Jonah  was; 
that  is,  because  he  was  afraid  to  express  his  highest 
conviction? 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  329 

God  (the  voice  of  his  highest  conviction)  told  Jonah 
to  go  to  Nineveh  and  proclaim,  "Yet  forty  days  and 
Nineveh  shall  be  destroyed !"  Jonah  refused  to  do  it. 
He  was  afraid  to  trust  the  word,  though  spoken  from 
the  highest  point  of  intelligence  he  knew.  Then  his 
whole  mentality  went  into  darkness,  and  he  could  see 
no  light  anywhere.  He  was  dead  within  himself;  he 
was  shirking  his  duty;  he  was  "denying  his  God."  All 
nature  seemed  arrayed  against  him;  no  new,  vitalizing 
thought  was  born  in  his  brain,  and  could  not  be  so 
long  as  the  pressure  of  an  undone  deed  was  pushing 
against  his  conscience  for  execution. 

The  entire  meaning  of  the  little  narrative  is  this: 
Belief  becomes  potent  only  in  externalization.  When 
we  refuse  to  express  or  to  externalize  our  most  per- 
emptory thoughts,  they  trouble  us  to  such  an  extent 
that  growth  is  stultified  so  long  as  this  condition  re- 
mains. It  was  fear  that  held  Jonah  from  expressing 
his  positive  belief.  His  case  is  worthy  of  record.  There 
is  no  instance  of  courageous  mastery  in  history  that 
excels  it.  He  did  what  he  was  afraid  to  do  because  he 
thought  he  was  right. 

And  in  the  end  Neneveh  was  not  destroyed.  There 
can  never  be  a  grander  lesson  taught  than  this  last 
fact.     The  word  he  had  spoken  in  utmost  faith  did  not 


330  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

prove  true.  And  what  does  this  mean?  It  means 
that  on  the  road  of  progression  a  man  must  do  and  be 
the  best  he  knows  regardless  of  consequences,  regard- 
less of  the  fact  that  to-morrow's  knowledge  may  prove 
every  assertion  of  to-day  an  error.  This  is  forging 
ahead  in  spite  of  opposition,  the  opposition  of  igno- 
rance, which  is  the  only  opposition  any  one  ever  has. 
And  this  forging  ahead,  cleaving  a  way  through  the 
untried  jungle  of  doubts  and  fears  that  surrounds  us, 
is  growth. 

The  story  of  Jonah  is  the  story  of  a  man  who  dared 
to  stand  by  his  convictions  in  the  face  of  his  own 
fears. 

The  Bible  is  full  of  such  records  if  properly  under- 
stood. All  of  them  relate  to  the  building  of  man — 
the  master. 

The  Bible  had  again  become  my  guide  in  my  effort 
to  see  my  way  out  of  the  clouds  and  shadows,  that 
pressed  so  densely  upon  my  mental  vision,  while  I  was 
attempting  to  find  the  road  leading  away  from  disease, 
old  age  and  death. 

The  love  of  beauty  has  amounted  almost  to  a  mania 
with  me  all  my  life.  I  doubt  whether  I  ever  was  in- 
spired to  an  effort  of  any  kind,  that  the  hope  of  making 
something  appear  more  attractive  did  not  actuate  me. 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  331 

And  what  inducements  life  was  holding  out!  How 
things  did  grow,  and  kept  growing!  The  mystery  of 
perpetual  unfoldment  was  in  everything.  I  did  not 
reason  on  this  wonderful  fact  at  the  time  of  which  I 
am  writing,  but  I  had  an  undefined  perception  of  it 
that  was  all  pervading,  and  that  filled  me  with  a  sense 
of  security.  The  words  that  most  frequently  came  to 
me  were,  "I  don't  understand  now,  but  I  shall  do  so 
sometime;  I  can  wait." 

The  fact  is,  I  was  growing  almost  as  unconsciously 
as  the  peach  grows,  simply  because  I  was  non-resistant 
to  the  ubiquitous  good  that  surely  does  pervade  all 
things.  I  had  turned  my  mind  loose  from  dogmas  of 
every  description,  and  the  eternal  life  was  beginning 
to  flow  through  it. 

I  talked  to  some  of  my  friends  on  the  subject  of 
conquering  death,  but  no  one  took  any  interest.  Many 
of  them  said  that  death  itself  was  a  conquest  that 
liberated  the  spirit  from  this  gross  body;  and  that  was 
what  they  desired. 

But  I  knew  better  than  this.  I  knew  that  the  ap- 
proach to  death  was  by  the  road  of  many  and  con- 
stantly increasing  weaknesses,  and  that  death  was  the 
culmination  of  all  weakness.  There  was  no  semblance 
of  conquest  in  it;  nothing  but  defeat.     It  was  the 


332  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

overcoming  of  the  will.  People  do  not  want  to  die; 
and  to  be  compelled  to  do  what  one  does  not  want  to 
do  is  surrendery,  and  not  mastery. 

I  suppose  I  was  gradually  growing  stronger  in  my 
selfhood,  for  I  was  beginning  to  lay  claims  to  life  in 
a  way  that  set  aside  all  limitations.  There  was  a 
growing  strength  within  me  that  caused  me  to 
repudiate  every  form  of  fatalism.  The  preacher 
might  preach  of  death;  a  voice  within  me  negatived 
his  word.  Everything  in  the  world,  and  that  had  ever 
been  in  it,  denied  my  claim,  but  I  only  made  it 
stronger  in  the  face  of  such  opposition. 

"2  am"  was  my  constant  thought;  and  these  words 
always  bristled  with  a  sense  of  unconquerableness. 

I  can  trace  the  growth  of  my  will  step  by  step 
from  the  moment  that  I  recorded  in  my  own  mind  my 
claim  to  deathlessness. 

It  became  a  difficult  thing  for  me  to  stick  to  my 
text  so  far  as  my  paper,  The  Woman's  World,  was 
concerned.  It  was  a  woman's  suffrage  paper,  and  I 
had  lost  interest  in  the  subject,  in  view  of  the  greater 
subject  that  really  does  circumference  all  reforms. 

Mary  Eddy,  the  author  of  "Science  and  Health," 
got  hold  of  a  copy  of  The  Woman's  World,  and  wrote 
me  that  I  was  almost  a  Christian  Scientist.      With 


A  SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  333 

her  letter  came  her  book.  It  was  then  in  two  small 
volumes.  I  tried  to  read  it;  but  it  was  nonsense  to 
me.  Some  of  her  later  editions  make  her  meaning 
clearer,  but  the  one  she  sent  me  did  not  contain  a 
single  thought  that  was  in  any  manner  related  to  my 
way  of  thinking. 

With  the  books  and  the  letter  came  an  advertise- 
ment of  her  and  her  work  she  wished  me  to  insert  in 
payment  of  the  books.  The  advertisement  was  long 
enough  to  occupy  the  most  of  the  space  in  my  little 
paper.  I  threw  the  whole  outfit  in  the  waste  basket, 
and  forgot  about  it  until  she  wrote  again  ordering  me 
most  peremptorily  to  send  the  books  back.  The 
books  had  been  in  use  until  they  were  nearly  worn 
out  before  they  reashed  me,  and  the  curious  part  was 
that  any  person  could  ever  have  read  them  enough  to 
even  soil  them. 

This  was  the  first  I  had  heard  of  Christian  Science. 
It  made  no  impression  on  me.  Later  I  had  my  in- 
terest aroused,  and  joined  a  class  in  Chicago,  where  I 
think  I  came  into  a  clear  understanding  of  the  whole 
movement. 

I  soon  learned  that  the  movement  had  no  objective 
point;  it  was  the  brewing  of  an  idea  that  did  not 
understand  its  own  meaning;  it  was  the  undeveloped 


334  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

soul  of  a  new  truth  not  yet  clothed  with  the  body 
that  would  make  it  of  practical  benefit  to  the  world. 
It  was  a  prophecy  of  mighty  things  to  come,  and  this 
was  all  it  was,  or  is.  But  that  of  which  it  was  the 
nebular  and  prophetic  beginning  was  on  its  way  to 
the  rescue  of  mankind,  and  it  is  growing  in  power 
every  day.  Christian  Science  is  the  outer  vestibule 
leading  to  a  mighty  system  of  thought.  Entering 
into  it  is  the  beginning  of  salvation  from  sorrow  and 
disease,  old  age  and  death.  Remaining  in  it,  under  the 
mistaken  belief  that  it  is  all  there  is,  will  not  per- 
manently save  any  person.  Salvation  depends  upon 
eternal  progression;  eternal  growth  in  the  knowledge 
of  life.  No  one  can  stand  still,  and  yet  continue  to 
live.  Death  is  the  penalty  of  stagnation.  Indeed,  death 
and  stagnation  are  synonymous  terms. 

This  is  what  ails  the  churches.  They  do  not  save; 
they  only  postpone.  The  time  to  save  is  when  salva- 
tion is  most  needed;  the  place  to  save  is  where  life's 
ills  are  thickest.  And  where  is  that?  Right  here  in 
the  world  to-day. 

And  what  are  life's  ills?  They  are  sickness  and 
sorrow  and  poverty  and  old  age  and  death.  These  are 
the  things  we  wish  to  be  saved  from ;  and  now  is  a  better 
time  to  begin  the  work  of  salvation  than  after  death. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

For  who  knows  what  the  words  "after  death"  may 
mean?  Endless  numbers  of  people  think  they  know; 
and  theories  concerning  this  state  lie  thick  all  down 
the  ages,  but  not  one  item  of  absolute  knowledge  has 
been  brought  forth. 

Nature  is  the  most  potent  truth  we  have.  Looking 
within  these  natural  selves  of  ours,  we  find  that  the 
strongest  of  all  implanted  desires  is  for  life,  and  more 
life,  and  still  more  life;  life  at  first  trying  to  reach 
out  beyond  the  grave;  and  then — when  all  its  springs 
have  been  strengthened  by  its  constantly  growing 
hope  and  faith,  comes  the  more  vital  thought  of  life 
that  need  not  yield  to  death;  life  that  bridges  the 
grave  with  intelligence — the  knowing  how  to  con- 
tinue to  live. 

Gradually  the  great  truth  dawns  that  man  is  master 
of  himself  and  his  surroundings;  that  there  is  no 
power  in  the  universe  that  prescribes  his  limitations; 
that  says  to  him,  "Stay  where  you  are;  go  no  farther.1' 

And  so,  by  slow  degrees,  I  came  to  recognize  man's 
place  in  the  world,  and  his  relation,  to  his  surround- 
ings; and  great  joy — even  exultation — took  possession 
of  me.  Time,  fate,  circumstance,  were  no  longer  my 
foes  nor  even  my  obstructions. 

Before  I  reached   this   condition,   I   had — through 


336  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

years  of  concentrated  thought — climbed  to  the  light 
of  the  one  truth  on  which  salvation  from  old  age  and 
death  rests. 

It  is  the  mighty  fact  that  all  is  mind;  that  the 
substance  which  in  the  past  we  have  called  dead 
matter  is  a  mental  substance;  a  substance,  every  atom 
of  which,  thinks,  or  holds  in  latency  the  power  to 
think.  This  one  truth  when  understood  is  itself  sole 
conqueror  of  old  age  and  death.  Nothing  more  is 
needed  but  the  perfect  understanding  of  it  to  close 
every  avenue  of  weakness  to  every  member  of  the 
race,  and  to  start  all  persons  on  an  unbroken  road  of 
endless  progression  through  the  coming  centuries; 
and  to  start  them,  too,  in  a  way  that  insures  greater 
strength  to  them  with  every  advance  step  they  take. 

If  a  man  is  a  purely  mental  creature,  and  this  is 
precisely  what  he  is,  then  knowing  is  being.  The  less 
he  knows,  the  weaker  he  is  and  the  more  liable  to  be 
overcome  by  the  obstructions  he  meets,  and  the  more 
surely  will  he  fall  a  victim  to  disease  and  death. 
Whereas,  the  more  he  knows,  the  stronger  he  becomes 
and  the  easier  he  finds  it  to  overcome  difficulties,  un- 
til a  perception  of  the  fact  that  he  is  master  of  all 
things  begins  to  dawn  on  him.  A  mental  perception 
of  individual   strength    is  invariably  a  physical  per- 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  337 

ception  of  it  also,  because  mind  and  body  are  one.  In 
other  words,  the  body  is  all  mind,  of  which  thought — 
the  positive  pole  of  the  body — is  the  shaping  and 
directing  power. 

As  I  have  said  previously,  the  grandest  truth  of  this 
or  any  age  is  the  fact  that  man  is  a- mental  statement 
of  knowledge,  and  not  a  physical  creation  of  decaying 
matter. 

This  is  true  not  only  of  man  but  of  all  things  that 
exist;  it  is  true  of  the  grass  and  of  the  birds  and  bees; 
it  is  true  of  the  rocks;  it  is  the  ample  explanation  of 
geology;  it  is  true  of  the  stars;  it  is  the  basis  of 
astronomy,  and  accounts  for  the  formation  of  planets 
and  for  their  movement  in  their  spheres.  It  explains 
all  things;  it  is  the  key  that  unlocks  the  entire 
mystery  of  life  and  death  and  disease  and  of  every 
enigma  that  has  ever  presented  itself  for  solution  to 
man,  or  that  ever  will  present  itself. 

The  knowledge  that  all  is  mind,  that  the  universe 
in  all  its  parts  from  atoms  to  suns  is  but  a  mental 
statement,  will — when  studied  out — prove  its  own  ex- 
planation, and  establish  the  fact  that  there  is  nothing 
concealed  from  the  growing  mind  of  man. 

Moreover,  this  statement — that  all  is  mind — is  the 
great  turning  point  in  the  race's  history.     It  is  the 


338  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

point  of  ascension  from  the  fatalistic  theory  of  cause 
and  effect,  as  based  upon  a  belief  in  dead  matter,  to 
the  freedom  of  personal  creativeness,  through  the 
acquisition  of  such  truths  as  go  with  the  understand- 
ing that  man  is  a  mental  creature  who  has  ever  been 
the  accretion  of  thought;  and  who  can  go  on  in  an 
unbroken  line  of  growth  by  continuing  to  think 
newer  and  nobler  and  higher  thoughts  than  he  has 
heretofore  been  thinking. 

The  objection  brought  to  bear  on  this  idea  comes 
from  persons  who  will  not  use  their  reasoning  powers 
enough  to  see  the  matter  in  its  entirety.  They  say, 
"Why,  mind  is  an  invisible  thing;  and  if  man  is  all 
mind,  then  he  could  not  be  seen,"  etc. 

But  mind  is  not  invisible.  Everything  of  which  we 
receive  knowledge  through  any  one  of  the  senses  is 
mind  —  the  trees,  the  rocks,  the  water,  all  things. 
And  what  proof  have  we  that  they  are  mind?  This; 
each  one  of  them  is  a  certain  form  of  knowing.  Each 
one  of  them  is  a  recognition  of  life.  To  recognize  is 
to  think.  The  atom  thinks;  it  recognizes  within  itself 
the  law  of  attraction,  and  in  obedience  to  this  recog- 
nition it  unites  with  some  other  atom,  thus  becoming 
the  commencement  of  a  more  complex  life  than  it  had 
heretofore  been. 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  339 

But  this  subject  has  been  so  thoroughly  explained 
in  my  other  works,  that  I  must  pass  on  and  leave  it 
alone.  That  it  is  worth  investigating  the  reader  may 
well  believe,  when  I  say  that  it  lies  at  the  foundation 
of  man's  power  to  become  master  of  life  and  all 
of  life's  forces,  even  to  the  overcoming  of  his  last 
enemy — death. 

The  mighty  facts  springing  from  a  knowledge  of 
the  true  solution  of  man  —  namely  —  that  he  is  a 
mental  creature,  self-created  and  self-creating,  through 
his  power  to  evolve  knowledge  out  of  his  own  organ- 
ism, has  been  going  on  for  years  in  my  mind;  and 
converts  to  the  idea  have  been  quite  rapidly  made. 

And  this  decides  me  to  go  back  and  bring  up  some 
personal  experiences,  that  I  had  thought  I  could  com- 
plete this  "Search  For  Freedom"  without  touching 
upon. 

That  I  have  found  freedom  can  be  seen  by  any  one 
who  has  read  the  latter  part  of  this*  work  carefully. 
I  am,  indeed,  emancipated  from  every  form  of  anxiety 
and  fear,  and  this  is  freedom.  I  have  become 
emancipated  through  the  knowledge  of  man's  powers 
of  mastery;  and  I  know  that  the  exercise  of  such 
powers  by  him  is  demonstration  over  everything  that 
has  ever  seemed  to  hold  him  in  bondage. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


COMING   TO   FLORIDA. 

The  trouble  with  an  ordinary  autobiography  is  that 
one  does  not  know  when  to  stop  it.  The  author  is  rarely 
so  accommodating  as  to  die  and  leave  the  last  chapter 
to  be  finished  by  an  addenda  from  the  publisher. 

And  if  this  is  the  case  with  the  autobiography  of 
one  who  believes  in  the  power  of  death,  and  who  ex- 
pects to  die,  how  much  more  difficult  it  is  where  the 
author  is  quite  sure  she  is  in  process  of  overcoming 
death,  and  who  could  make  a  new  chapter  to  her  book 
every  week  through  eternity. 

This  is  precisely  my  case.  The  increasing  vitality 
of  my  thought  since  I  began  to  find  out  that  man  is 
not  the  creature  of  blind  fate,  neither  the  puppet  of  a 
God  outside  of  himself,  has  added  so  much  to  my 
bodily  powers — the  body  and  thought  being  one — that 
I  really  cannot,  in  looking  forward,  see  anything  for 
myself  but  a  still  greater  increase  of  life's  forces  and, 
therefore,  still  greater  length  of  days,  all  pointing  to 
the  overcoming  of  old  age  and  death. 

340 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  341 

Once,  while  pondering  deeply  upon  this  subject — 
this  was  before  I  came  into  an  understanding  of  the 
law  of  growth — I  had  what  a  superstitious  person 
might  call  a  vision.  1  seemed  to  lapse  from  my  state 
of  consciousness  for  a  time,  and  to  find  myself  far 
away  from  my  surroundings.  I  was  with  my  living 
children  walking  on  the  seashore.  It  was  high  tide, 
the  beach  was  narrow,  and  the  waves  were  coming  in 
and  wetting  our  feet  and  our  skirts,  impeding  our 
progress  and  making  us  quite  wretched. 

The  sand  dunes  rose  high  on  the  left  hand  as  we 
moved  along  laboriously.  On  top  of  the  sand  dunes, 
keeping  pace  with  us  as  we  went  onward,  was  Jennie — 
the  little  girl  I  had  lost.  It  was  high  and  dry  where 
she  was;  and  I  watched  her  light  and  graceful  move- 
ments eagerly,  with  my  face  turned  up  toward  her  so 
constantly  I  scarcely  noted  the  wretchedness  of  my 
own  condition.  After  going  on  in  this  way  for  some 
time,  our  path  turned  gradually  upward,  while  the 
path  Jennie  was  on  began  to  turn  downward. 
Presently  it  terminated  in  a  lovely  little  valley  about 
half  way  up  to  the  top  of  the  dunes.  It  was  the 
quaintest  little  valley  imaginable.  It  gave  me  the 
feeling  of  having  been  translated  out  of  some  old 
Bible  story.     In  the  midst  of  it  was  a  well   walled 


342  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

about  with  stone,  and  over  the  well  an  arch  with  the 
words,  "This  is  the  water  of  life.  He  that  drinketh 
of  this  water  shall  thirst  no  more."  The  water  was 
of  diamond  clearness,  and  we  drank  it  and  felt  rested. 
Then  we  sat  down  on  the  stone  seat,  and  who  should 
be  with  us  there  but  Jennie?  And  oh!  the  shining 
light  in  her  eyes,  and  oh!  the  happiness,  the  sense  of 
completeness  that  fell  upon  us,  never — as  it  seemed-  - 
to  be  broken  any  more! 

This  circumstance  made  a  strong  impression  on  me 
at  the  time.  It  gave  me  courage  to  hold  to  my  highest 
thoughts  and  hopes.  And  yet  I  should  have  held  to 
them  anyhow.  I  could  not  drop  them;  they  held  to 
me;  they  were  a  part  of  me. 

In  the  meantime,  while  I  was  nourishing  the 
thoughts  that  pointed  so  constantly  to  man's  conquest 
of  death,  and  to  his  ability  to  work  this  planet  over 
in  conformity  with  the  high  ideals  which  I  knew  he 
possessed  in  latency,  and  while  I  had  hard  work  to 
keep  from  boring  my  friends  with  superfluous  talk  on 
the  subject,  I  met  Mr.  C.  C.  Post,  on  whom  I  made 
such  an  impression  with  my  earnestness  that  he  en- 
couraged me  to  tell  him  all  about  it.  What  he  really 
thought  of  me  in  the  early  days  of  our  acquaintance  I 
do  not  know;  but  if  he  got  tired  of  me  at  times,  he  got 


A  SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  343 

rested  and  came  back  to  see  me  again.  In  July,  1883, 
I  was  married  to  him;  and  I  believe  I  can  truthfully 
say  that  our  relations  have  been  a  source  of  the 
greatest  pleasure  and  growth  to  each.  Personally  he 
is  pleasing  in  manner  and  appearance,  with  the  face 
of  a  student  and  the  temperament  of  an  artist,  all 
flavored  with  a  sense  of  humor  that  adds  greatly  to 
his  power  to  please.  A  man  of  broad  thought  and 
ready  speech,  a  poet  as  well  as  a  logical  reasoner,  he  is 
widely  known  as  a  writer  and  speaker  upon  both 
political  and  metaphysical  subjects.  His  articles  in 
Freedom  have  attracted  more  universal  attention  and 
favorable  comment  than  have  those  of  any  other 
correspondent,  just  as  his  published  works  of  fiction 
outsold  all  other  works  of  their  class  at  the  time  they 
were  issued;  and  they  still  continue  to  sell.  My 
regret  is  that  his  time  is  so  consumed  in  business 
affairs  connected  with  the  upbuilding  of  the  place,  and 
the  hote  for  which  he  feels  himself  responsible,  and, 
indeed,  for  the  development  of  all  our  plans  for  the 
future,  as  to  prevent  him  from  giving  his  entire  at- 
tention to  writing  and  the  study  of  metaphysical  sub- 
jects. 

But  who  knows  what  man's  relation  to  woman  is? 
It  may  be  that  his  executive  power  bears  a  strictly 


344  A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

counterpartal  relation  to  her  ideality.  One  thing 
certain,  woman  is  not  ulesser  man,1'  as  Tennyson  said; 
she  is  all  that  man  is  not.  They  are  to  each  other 
complement,  fulfillment.  But  this  is  a  matter  not  to 
be  discussed  now — at  a  time  when  woman  is  only 
beginning  to  be  faintly  awakened  to  what  she  is,  and 
when  man  knows  no  more  about  her  than  she  knows 
about  herself. 

Some  three  years  after  my  marriage  to  Mr.  Post  we 
came  South.  We  were  on  a  search  for  conditions. 
We  hardly  knew  what  the  conditions  would  be;  but 
we  had  worn  out  the  old  ones,  and  had  been  worn  out 
in  them,  until  a  complete  change  became  imperative. 

Indeed,  Mr.  Post  was  a  very  sick  man.  He  had 
worked  too  hard  at  the  desk,  and  death  threatened  him 
in  the  shape  of  consumption.  When  we  left  Chicago 
not  one  of  our  friends  expected  to  see  him  alive 
again. 

This  was  soon  after  we  had  begun  to  mate  a  study 
of  metaphysical  subjects,  and  the  opportunity  of  test- 
ing what  little  we  knew  about  the  power  of  mind  to 
control  matter,  was  surely  present  in  his  case. 

We  went  to  Douglasville,  Georgia,  and  there,  in  a 
little  country  hotel,  we  fought  the  battle  with  death 
and   won   the   victory.      As   health   began  to  be  es- 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  345 

tablished  in  Mr.  Post's  wasted  frame,  a  wild  curiosity 
was  manifested  to  find  out  what  cured  him.  It  was 
believed  that  I  possessed  some  secret  power  that  was 
denied  to  others,  and  I  became  a  marked  individual  in 
the  community.  Especially  the  negroes  were  affected 
by  Mr.  Post's  cure,  and  they  came  to  me  with  their 
complaints  and  begged  to  be  cured  also.  At  this 
point  I  could  have  done  the  work  that  Schlatter  did 
and  established  a  world-wide  reputation  as  a  healer; 
for  among  an  intensely  negative  people,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  speak  the  word  for  health  and  it  will 
soon  manifest  itself. 

At  first  it  was  the  colored  people  who  came  to  me 
for  relief;  but  soon  there  was  another  class  came. 
Southern  society  is  divided  into  three  classes;  the 
negroes,  the  poorer  class  of  white  people  who  are 
tenants  on  the  land  they  plant,  and  the  upper  class 
who  are  property  owners,  and  in  every  way  superior 
to  the  others.  I  only  had  a  short  experience  with  the 
middle  class  when  the  more  intelligent  and  refined 
people  began  to  crowd  all  the  others  out. 

I  soon  got  tired  of  the  whole  matter,  especially  as 
it  took  up  my  entire  time  and  there  was  no  money  of 
any  consequence  in  it;  and  we  needed  money.  I  had 
sold  The  Woman's  World  before  leaving  Chicago,  and 


346  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

Mr.  Post  had  been  unable  for  months  to  earn  anything 
with  his  pen.  It  was  quite  a  long  time  before  he  re- 
covered his  mental  vigor  sufficiently  to  enter  the  field 
of  literature  again. 

And  even  when  he  became  stronger  his  inclinations 
turned  against  it;  he  wished  for  some  ground  in  which 
to  dig  and  plant.  He  had  been  brought  up  on  a  farm, 
and  it  was  strange  to  see  how  he  really  longed  to  come 
into  close  relations  with  old  mother  earth  once  more. 

The  result  was  that  we  bought  some  land  adjoining 
the  town,  and  began  to  improve  it.  But  money  was 
none  too  plenty,  and  neither  of  us  was  earning  any- 
thing. 

But  all  the  time,  every  day  and  hour,  my  thoughts 
kept  running  more  and  more  on  the  subject  of  how  to 
overcome  disease,  old  age  and  death.  My  experience 
in  healing  the  people  about  me  threw  wonderful 
light  over  the  whole  field  of  man's,  as  yet,  undeveloped 
power  in  this  direction.  I  saw  how  rapidly  all  nega- 
tive beliefs — which  are  beliefs  grounded  in  ignorance 
of  the  law  of  evolution — were  displaced  and  wiped  out 
by  the  positive  beliefs  generated  in  a  brain  that 
refused  to  accept  any  statement  of  man's  limitation. 

Each  day  my  former  belief  in  an  overruling  power 
with  its  fatalistic  results  was  drawing  down  from  the 


A   SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  347 

mirage  of  an  imaginary  heaven  and  coming  closer  to 
the  earth.  This  forced  me  into  the  study  of  nature 
and  her  laws;  and  I  studied  them  so  faithfully  that 
they  brought  me  splendid  reward.  I  became  a  verita- 
ble product  of  earth,  submerged  in  her  fruitful  soil — 
so  to  speak — where,  like  some  seed  or  bulb,  I  took 
root  and  began  to  feel  the  throbbing  pulse  of  mother 
earth  quickening  the  life  within  me. 

I  voluntarily  became  as  a  little  child.  I  presented 
no  opposing  belief  to  the  influx  of  natural  knowledge 
which  is  constantly  flowing  from  the  earth  in  expres- 
sions of  use  and  beauty,  and  which  still  holds  life  for 
us  in  greater  quantity  than  man  dreams  of,  if  we  will 
but  discard  visionary  theories  that  lead  us  far  away 
from  the  nourishing  breast  of  this  dear  mother  into 
regions  of  thin  vapor  where  we  starve. 

That  man's  course  is  upward,  and  that  he  will 
eventually  grow  away  from  the  earth  is  true;  but  the 
effort  to  lift  him  above  the  earth  before  the  earth  has 
matured  him — that  is,  before  she  has  vested  her  entire 
power  of  reproduction  in  him,  is  like  taking  a  young 
plant  out  of  the  ground  and  suspending  it  in  the  air 
and  then  expecting  it  to  grow. 

The  man's  hopes  and  beliefs  have  been  lifted  above 
the  present  plane  of  his  living.     He  believes  himself 


348  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

to  be  the  result  of  some  supernatural  creation,  and 
dependent  on  some  supernatural  power;  when  in  strict 
truth  he  is  but  a  vegetable  evolved  into  higher  knowl- 
edge of  the  law  of  growth  than  the  other  vegetables 
that  go  to  sustain  his  life.  The  same  forces  con- 
tribute to  his  existence  that  contribute  to  the  ex- 
istence of  a  cabbage  or  a  cow.  The  man  is  both 
cabbage  and  cow,  with  the  added  intelligence  of 
centuries  of  unfoldment  by  the  acquisition  of  more 
experiences  than  the  cabbage  and  cow  have  had, 
which  experiences  have  given  him  a  superior  intelli- 
gence to  that  of  his  progenitors,  and,  by  reason  of  his 
superior  intelligence,  a  superior  form. 

For  intelligence  expresses  itself  in  form.  From  be- 
ginning to  end — if  there  could  be  an  end — in  every 
form,  and  under  all  circumstances,  it  holds  true  that 
knowing  is  being.  And  this  is  because  the  universe  is 
not  composed  of  dead  matter,  but  of  the  vital,  ever 
changing,  ever  substantial  and  real  manifestation  of 
mind. 

Mind  is  intelligence  in  manifestation;  it  is  thought 
in  expression.  To  say  that  a  man  is  as  he  believes,  is 
the  key  that  unlocks  the  whole  situation.  Everything 
from  the  grain  of  sand  up  through  each  ascending 
group  or  species  in  the  scale  of  existence  is  just  what 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  349 

it  believes.  This  means  that  its  form  and  its  powers 
are  but  the  expression  of  as  much  as  it  knows. 

The  one  great  truth  standing  head  and  shoulders 
above  all  the  truths  ever  ripened  by  the  human  brain 
is  the  truth  that  all  is  mind  or  intelligence.  The 
universe  is  but  a  huge  system  of  brain,  evolving 
thoughts;  and  thoughts  are  things.  They  are  actual 
substances.  They  may  be  thoughts  rooted  in  the 
ground  as  the  trees,  or  they  may  be  thoughts  flying 
in  the  air  as  the  birds,  but  in  every  case  they  are 
thoughts — generating  still  other  thoughts. 

That  life  is  perpetuated  by  the  growth  and  develop- 
ment of  thought  from  within  these  human  bodies  of 
ours  is  a  scientific  fact.  It  does  not  rest  on  hearsay, 
nor  is  it  an  idle  theory  like  the  baseless  fabric  of 
salvation  by  the  grace  of  God.  It  is  a  demonstrable 
thing  when  the  foundation  principle  underlying  all 
truth  is  found.  And  the  foundation  principle  is  at 
last  found  in  the  statement  that  the  substance  com- 
monly accepted  as  dead  matter  is  living,  vital  mind, 
expressing  itself  in  the  myriad  of  forms  everywhere  to 
be  seen  and  felt  and  heard. 

Man's  continued  powers  of  growth  rest  on  the  fact 
that  thought  is  life,  and  that  his  ability  to  project 
thought  into  higher  channels  than  has  ever  been  done 
before  is  his  positive  guarantee  of  more  life,  and  life 


350  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

on  a  higher  or  more  positive  plane  than  he  has  here- 
tofore known. 

More  thought,  higher  thought  is  more  life  and 
higher  life;  and  both  are  vital  force.  An  acceleration 
of  vital  force  expressed  in  our  bodies  means  the 
banishment  of  disease,  old  age  and  death. 

As  I  said  before,  this  thing  is  susceptible  of  the 
most  scientific  explanation.  It  is  a  fact,  and  is  being 
demonstrated  satisfactorily  by  more  than  one  person 
now  living. 

I  can  look  back  in  my  own  experience  and  see  the 
gradual  ripening  of  thought  up  to  the  point  where  I 
knew  for  a  certainty  that  men  did  not  have  to  die. 
The  whole  process  was  entirely  mental.  There  has 
never  been  what  the  world  would  call  a  physical  effort 
in  it.  I  have  not  strengthened  my  muscles  by  exercise; 
I  have  not  added  to  my  vigor  by  any  form  of  medica- 
tion; I  have  simply  reasoned  on  the  great  problem  of 
man's  existence  until  I  know  what  he  is  and  how  he 
came  to  be  what  he  is. 

Knowing  how  he  came  to  be  what  he  is  put  me  in 
possession  of  all  the  knowledge  I  needed  regarding 
the  law  of  his  growth. 

I  never  could  have  acquired  this  knowledge  had  I 
remained  in  the  old  race  beliefs  of  physical  causation. 
It  was  only  as  I  made  the  transition  of  thought  from 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  351 

the  basis  of  matter  to  that  of  mind  that  the  whole 
thing  opened  to  me,  and  I  knew  that  knowing  was 
being,  and  that  more  knowing  was  greater  and  more 
powerful  being;  and  so  on  until  man  had  climbed  up 
the  scale  from  the  negative  to  the  positive  pole  of  life 
where  he  saw  for  himself,  with  his  own  intelligence, 
that  he  was  master  of  all  things  including  old  age 
and  death. 

I  am  not  going  to  write  much  on  this  subject. 
The  whole  of  it  is  fully  given  in  my  other  published 
works.  Therefore,  I  shall  again  speak  of  the  enter- 
prise that  has  grown  out  of  our  beliefs  in  the  allness 
of  life  and  the  absoluteness  of  mind. 

Before  we  bought  the  land  of  which  I  have  spoken 
we  had  to  solve  the  financial  question.  As  we  were 
always  talking  on  the  inexhaustible  subject  of  met- 
aphysics, Mr.  Post  suggested  that  I  write  a  series  of 
lessons  and  put  them  on  the  market.  I  did  so,  and 
announced  the  fact  through  my  old  paper  The 
Woman's  World.  I  charged  twenty-five  dollars  a  set 
for  them.  They  were  all  in  manuscript,  and  the 
student  was  required  to  copy  and  return  them.  The 
lessons  have  since  then  been  put  into  print,  and  have 
sold  rapidly  at  a  greatly  reduced  price. 

But  it  seems  strange  to  me,  even  now,  that  I  should 
have  put  them  on  the  market  as  I  did  and  made  such 


352  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

a  decided  victory  of  the  effort.  The  first  twenty-five 
dollars  that  came  surprised  me,  though  I  was  expecting 
it.  Then  more  orders  came,  and  still  more,  until  I  was 
dazed  with  success.  As  a  result  of  this  we  bought 
the  land  and  began  to  improve  it.  We  planted  fruit 
and  nut  trees;  we  built  a  lovely  home,  and  were  the  hap- 
piest people  that  ever  lived  I  expect.  We  had  money 
to  spend  in  the  effort  to  assist  others.  The  people 
about  us — though  not  understanding  our  ideas  in  the 
least  —  were  strongly  attracted  toward  us,  and  we 
loved  them  in  return.  Always  believing  in  innocent 
pleasures  we  gave  many  entertainments,  and  enjoyed 
them  ourselves  quite  as  much  as  our  friends  did. 

But  students  of  metaphysics  began  to  come  to  us 
from  a  distance,  and  we  soon  saw  that  we  could  not 
remain  in  so  small  a  town  where  the  hotels  were  in- 
adequate to  accommodate  persons  of  refinement  and 
culture — such  as  have  always  been  attracted  to  the 
investigation  of  high  thought.  It  became  imperative 
that  we  should  go  somewhere  else. 

Just  six  miles  from  us  on  the  road  leading  to 
Atlanta  was  the  celebrated  Sweetwater  Park  with  its 
large  and  splendid  buildings.  It  was  a  summer  resort, 
and  my  classes  were  held  in  winter.  But  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  Park  consented  to  open  his  house  to  us 
provided  there  were  enough  of  us  to  pay  him  for  the 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  353 

trouble.  So  we  sold  our  beautiful  home  and  went 
there  with  sixty  or  seventy  others,  and  were  there  for 
six  months. 

But  finally  we  wanted  to  get  away.  We  had  always 
desired  to  be  close  to  some  large  body  of  water;  more- 
over we  had  been  having  many  a  suppressed  longing 
for  Florida.  And  then,  too,  a  plan  for  making  a  sort 
of  nucleus  to  the  great  thought  we  were  entertaining 
had  taken  root  in  our  minds  and  was  growing  rapidly. 

Just  what  we  wanted  we  were  not  ripe  to  define; 
but  we  had  seen  that  in  whatever  place  we  remained 
long  enough  to  impregnate  our  surroundings  with 
our  views,  that  everything  seemed  charged  with  a 
strangely  magnetic  power  to  draw  others  to  us. 

Examining  this  thing  from  the  standpoint  of  our 
foundation  statement  that  all  is  mind,  we  perceived 
that  it  was  the  actual  sprouting  of  the  new  and 
mighty  truth  relating  to  man's  powers  of  conquering 
death,  and  that  all  that  this  truth  needed  was  its 
establishment  in  proper  soil,  and  with  fostering  con- 
ditions, in  order  to  take  root  and  grow  until  it  had 
filled  the  world  with  its  life-saving  influences. 

And  so  presently — without  hurry,  and  also  without 
rest,  for  we  were  growing  in  the  strength  of  the  most 
powerful  thought  ever  conceived  by  man — we  came  to 
Florida. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


A   VISION   OF   THE   DAUNTLESS   "I. 

I  cannot  easily  forget  the  night  we  reached  Daytona, 
Florida.  The  depot  then  stood  on  the  bank  of  the 
Halifax  river;  the  Palmetto  House  was  some  half  mile 
lower  down.  We  took  the  hack  and  were  driven  to  it 
beneath  the  many  palm  trees  and  the  wonderful  live 
oaks. 

No  one  has  ever  been  able  to  describe  such  a  night 
as  that  was.  The  full  moon  was  rising  over  the  trees 
on  the  opposite  side;  the  river  was  a  flawless  mirror. 
An  unbroken  column  of  light  that  one  might  have 
crossed  upon,  judging  by  its  appearance,  spanned  the 
stream  and  united  the  two  banks — a  bridge  of  silver. 
The  air  was  soft,  balmy,  magnetic.  It  is  no  use  to 
talk  about  the  feeling  in  things  being  imaginary.  I 
could  feel  in  that  atmosphere  messages  of  infinite 
peace  from  across  the  wide  ocean  that  was  breaking 
upon  its  coast  only  a  mile  away.  It  was  an  atmos- 
phere purified  of  personal  limitations  and  personal 
doubts  in  its  long  journey  over  the  beautiful  waves; 

354 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

waves  that  embossomed  the  heavens  above  them  no 
less  than  the  depths  below  them,  and  that  thus  seemed 
to  symbol  life  in  its  eternalness. 

We  spent  the  entire  winter  in  Daytona,  and  in  the 
spring  returned  to  Georgia,  where,  in  Atlanta,  I 
started  the  weekly  paper  Freedom,  which  was  a 
success  from  its  first  issue. 

After  less  than  a  year  in  Atlanta,  I  moved  the  paper 
to  Boston,  and  remained  there  with  it  for  a  short  time. 
But  the  climate  of  Florida  and  the  clearness  and 
purity  of  its  atmosphere,  and  the  beauty  of  it,  kept 
drawing  me  as  no  other  place  ever  has  done.  So  I 
came  back  to  find  that  it  was,  indeed,  the  ideal  spot  I 
had  always  been  looking  for. 

Just  across  the  river  from  Daytona  lies  a  long, 
narrow  stretch  of  land,  washed  on  its  east  side  by  the 
Atlantic  Ocean.  A  portion  of  this  we  purchased  and 
laid  off  in  town  lots,  and  began  to  improve  by  grading 
and  shelling  the  streets  and  planting  palm  trees  and 
magnolias  and  oaks  and  bays  along  their  borders. 

In  point  of  natural  advantages  the  location  is 
simply  unsurpassed.  The  ground  is  high  and  dry. 
Not  a  drop  of  stagnant  water  is  to  be  found  upon  it. 
The  swamp  land,  for  which  Florida  is  noted,  lies 
farther  inland,  and  no  breath  from  it  comes  to  us  by 


356  A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM. 

reason  of  the  wind  that  blows  from  the  ocean.  And 
this  wind  is  not  a  severe  wind  as  many  ocean  breezes 
are.  It  is  just  strong  enough  to  temper  the  heat  of 
summer  and  keep  it  deliciously  cool.  The  mercury 
never  rises  so  high  here  during  the  warm  weather  as  it 
does  in  any  of  the  northern  states;  and  in  the  three 
summers  I  have  spent  here,  I  have  not  felt  the  heat 
as  much  as  I  felt  it  in  a  few  weeks  in  Boston  and 
Chicago.  That  the  place  is  lovely  in  winter  is  well 
known;  but  that  there  are  parts  of  the  state  that  are 
even  more  lovely  in  summer  does  not  seem  to  be  be- 
lieved as  yet. 

The  peninsula  we  are  on  is  one  of  these  rarely 
favored  places.  With  the  Halifax  river — which  is 
simply  an  inlet  from  the  ocean — on  one  side  of  us,  and 
the  ocean  itself  on  the  other  side,  it  is  almost  as  if 
the  breath  of  eternal  purity  encompassed  us. 

And  here  we  are,  holding  for  the  manifestation  or  the 
outward  expression  of  our  highest,  our  most  idealistic 
hopes.  Other  persons  of  similar  hopes  are  joining  us 
here;  and  the  pure  natural  air  is  becoming  impregnated 
with  a  new  cast  of  thought  from  brains  that  are  no 
longer  steeped  in  the  world's  old  negative  beliefs  in 
the  power  of  disease  and  death;  thought  generated 
from  higher  reasoning  powers  than  the  race  has  ever 


A    SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  357 

used;  not  higher  than  it  is  capable  of  using,  but 
higher  than  it  is  in  the  habit  of  using,  while  under 
the  rule  of  the  deaf,  dumb  and  blind  religions  of  the 
day.  For  religions  are  hitching  posts  to  which  the 
people's  brains  are  tied,  and  about  which  they  meander 
round  and  round  in  a  circle,  without  advancing  a  step. 

We  are  the  apostles  of  endless  progression  through 
mental  unfoldment;  we  have  no  creeds;  growth  is 
at  eternal  enemity  with  creeds,  and  we  are  a  growing 
people. 

We  look  abroad  and  see  that  life  on  its  present 
footing  is  not  worth  having.  The  few  evanescent  and 
hopelessly  ignorant  years  of  adolescence  bring  us  to 
the  point  where  decay  actually  begins,  even  though 
its  manifestations  are  postponed  a  few  more  years. 
Then  comes  the  breaking  up  of  old  age,  ending  in 
death. 

No  wonder  that  the  superficial  thinker,  deeply  dis- 
contented with  the  unsatisfactory  brevity  of  a  life 
that  was  merely  a  hint  of  what  might  be,  should  cast 
about  in  •  his  brain  #  for  another  chance  of  existence 
under  more  favorable  conditions;  and  no  wonder  that, 
with  his  ignorance  of  man's  endless  power  of  mental 
unfoldment,  he  should  hit  upon  the  God-made  heaven 
of  the  future.     It  is  sufficiently  apparent  why  he  did 


358  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

it.  In  his  conception  we  perceive  the  dawn;  the  great 
truth  in  its  earliest  effort  to  come  forth  through  a 
mentality  not  yet  grown  big  enough  to  give  birth  to 
it  in  its  fullness. 

"Where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way."  To  put  the 
broadest  construction  upon  this  old  adage,  knocks 
down  all  the  bars  in  existence,  and  liberates  man  to 
the  freedom  of  the  universe.  We  have  the  will.  The 
will  is  prophecy  of  the  way.  The  will  could  not  exist 
if  the  way  did  not.  The  two  are  co-relative;  they  are 
the  Siamese  twins  of  advancement. 

To  describe  briefly  our  present  effort  in  this  place 
will  close  the  volume. 

We  are  here  to  learn,  and  we  are  here  to  teach.  We 
have  made  some  marked  improvements  in  the  place 
already,  and  more  are  contemplated.  It  is  our  in- 
tention to  build  a  school  that  will  take  pupils  of  all 
ages  from  the  baby  of  the  Kindergarten  up  to  the 
gray-headed  student  of  life's  forces  and  prospects;  for 
the  gray  head  is  as  much  of  a  baby  in  his  capacity  of 
farther  unfoldment  on  the  present  side  of  life  as  the 
baby  is.  Age  is  no  abridgement  to  any  person's 
chances,  if  he  will  only  begin  to  do  his  own  thinking. 
The  awakening  of  the  reasoning  powers,  and  the 
direction  of  them  toward  the  investigation  of  man, 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  359 

is  the  beginning  of  the  wisdom  that  saves  from  death. 
Mental  Science  is  the  study  of  man.  A  knowledge 
of  man  is  a  knowledge  of  the  universe;  and  this  knowl- 
edge, concentrated  in  the  individual,  is  power;  power 
over  all  things. 

In  the  school  we  mean  to  establish  here,  we  will 
employ  the  best  lecturers  and  teachers  on  a  wide  range 
of  subjects;  teachers  of  Oriental  History;  teachers  of 
Natural  History;  teachers  who  are  conversant  with 
the  rise  and  decay  of  the  various  systems  of  religious 
thought;  teachers  of  Evolution;  teachers  of  Mental 
Philosophy  as  given  forth  in  the  writings  of  the  great 
metaphysicians  of  the  past;  teachers  who  will  sift 
these  various  ideas  and  submit  them  to  the  test  of 
the  world's  latest  and  best  idea,  that  represented  by 
modern  Mental  Science.  We  will  establish  a  Con- 
servatory of  Music  when  we  get  around  to  it,  and  of 
Art  also.  Indeed,  nothing  that  will  aid  in  the  higher 
unfoldment  will  be  left  out. 

Our  design,  with  regard  to  this  place,  is  to  make  it 
an  opening  from  the  physical  plane  of  activity — in 
which  all  force  is  limited  by  what  we  call  the  laws  of 
causation — into  the  limitless  realm  of  mental  activity 
where  knowing  is  being.  In  other  words,  we  are 
making   a  doorway   from    mortality   to   immortality 


360  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

through  which  all  may  pass — if  they  choose  to  learn 
how  to  do  so — into  higher  conditions  of  "existence  than 
they  now  deem  possible.  It  is  a  doorway  from  the 
entire  realm  of  the  world's  past  dim,  uncertain,  but 
always  belittling,  beliefs  of  itself,  into  a  realm  of  ul- 
broken  personal  consciousness  of  such  potency  as  to 
destroy  utterly  all  cognition  of  those  shadows  upon 
human  intelligence  called  disease,  old  age  and  death. 

People  cannot  make  this  change  without  knowing 
how  to  do  it;  and  the  establishment  of  this  school  is 
to  teach  them  how.  It  will  be  a  school  for  the  higher 
education  of  the  race.  Teachers  will  be  educate  d 
here  who  will  go  out  in  the  world  to  establish  branch 
schools  like  the  parent  institution. 

When  one  looks  abroad  over  the  entire  social 
organization  of  the  race,  he  cannot  fail  to  see  how  the 
old  and  effete  beliefs  of  ages  of  past  ignorance  are 
bolstered  up. 

This  system  of  bolstering  up  is  a  perfect  thing  in 
its  way,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  improve  on  it. 
Look  at  the  schools  and  colleges  all  over  the  land  for 
the  sole  use  of  perpetuating  the  old,  dead  ideas;  look 
at  the  thousands  of  churches  with  their  ministers  and 
their  wealth,  that  meet  Sunday  after  Sunday  for  the 
exclusive  purpose  of  preventing  the  birth  of  free  and 
original  thought. 


A    SEARCH    FOR    FREEDOM.  361 

It  is  true  that  the  persons  who  contribute  to  this 
system,  by  which  the  old  beliefs  are  kept  operative 
long  after  they  are  dead,  are  mainly  actuated  by 
honest  intentions.  They  are  not  willfully  trying  to 
keep  back  race  intelligence.  It  is  their  ignorance  of 
the  fact  that  eternal  progress  alone  is  eternal  life  that 
makes  them  so  afraid  that  the  people  will  learn 
something  not  endorsed  by  their  forefathers.  But  it 
is  of  small  consequence  to  the  sufferers  by  mistaken 
methods  whether  blunders  are  perpetuated  honestly 
or  dishonestly.  The  thing  has  got  to  stop  sometime, 
and  consideration  for  the  motive  and  character  of  the 
persons  behind  the  error  is  not  to  be  weighed  in  the 
balance. 

Let  us  imagine  that  there  were  schools  all  over  the 
land  for  the  purpose  of  teaching  people  to  think,  in- 
stead of,  as  now,  closing  the  avenues  of  original 
thought  within  them  by  cramming  them  with  the 
thoughts  of  others;  thoughts  that  failed  to  save  the 
originators  themselves,  and  that  stand  comdemned  from 
this  very  fact.  Let  us  imagine  that  every  church  on 
earth  was  converted  into  a  scientific  lecture  hall 
where  the  efforts  of  the  best  brains  would  be  to  bring 
forth  the  most  comprehensive  truths  on  all  the  prob- 
lems of  this  life,  and  especially  the  truths  bearing 
upon  that  problem  of  all  problems — man. 


362  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

How  long  would  it  be  before  the  whole  world 
would  blossom  upward  toward  the  sun  of  all  in- 
telligence in  a  way  to  produce  the  fruit  of  perfect 
righteousness  (rightness)  throughout  every  depart- 
ment of  life,  if  the  vast  machinery  of  the  present 
system  of  organized  effort  for  the  perpetuation  of 
useless  creeds  were  devoted  to  the  attempt  to  bring 
forth  the  undeveloped  capacity  of  the  race? 

This  mighty  capacity  is  the  unknown  quantity 
waiting  solution  in  order  to  bring  all  the  broken  cords 
of  life  into  harmony  and  establish  heaven  here  on 
earth. 

Who  cares  for  a  heaven  of  the  future?  Who  does 
not  know  that  so  far  as  practical  happiness  is  con- 
cerned that  there  is  no  future?  We  only  have  what 
each  moment  yields.  We  may  look  forward  toward 
the  future,  but  the  thoughts  thus  projected  out  of 
ourselves  weaken  us  in  the  present,  and  bring  the 
future  no  nearer.  To  live  each  moment  as  it  passes 
is  the  only  way  to  live;  all  else  is  life  deferred,  ending 
in  death. 

But  this  sketch  of  my  "Search  for  Freedom1'  is 
nearing  its  close.  Have  I  found  what  I  have  been 
searching  for? 

Yes  I  have.     I  am  emancipated  from  every  belief 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  363 

that  stands  in  the  way  of  my  farther  development. 
The  bars  to  my  future  progress  are  down,  and  this  is 
freedom  in  quite  a  wide  sense.  If  it  is  not  freedom 
from  all  ignorance,  it  is,  at  least,  freedom  to  become 
free  in  time. 

I  have  achieved  freedom  from  many  things.  Where- 
as my  work  once  enslaved  me,  the  work  I  now  do 
makes  my  happiness.  And  again  in  the  matter  of 
burden  bearing  for  others;  by  the  light  of  Mental 
Science  I  have  discoverd  that  it  is  no  relief  to  others 
to  bear  their  burdens  for  them,  and,  therefore,  I  am 
relieved  of  this  form  of  slavery.  There  is  no  crushing 
sense  of  duty  on  me  from  any  source  whatever.  I 
have  learned — this  too  from  Mental  Science — that 
obedience  to  the  law  of  attraction  supercedes  the 
slavishness  of  duty,  so  that  what  I  do  is  done  in  joy 
and  gladness. 

I  have  learned  that  happiness  is  the  true  watch- 
word of  progress,  and  that  as  I  pursue  happiness  I 
find  all  desirable  things  flock  to  meet  me.  In  this 
element  of  happiness  love  is  generated,  and  love  is  the 
fruitful  mother  of  every  good. 

So  potent  is  the  effect  of  this  fact  that  the  success 
of  our  undertaking  appears  to  rest  upon  it.  We  did 
not  know  when  we  came  here  that  all  the  people  were 


364  A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM. 

seeking  happiness.  At  least,  we  did  not  know  that 
they  were  seeking  it  right  here  and  now;  but  they  are. 
We  thought  they  were  denying  themselves  present 
happiness  for  the  sake  of  laying  up  treasures  in 
heaven;  but  we  were  mistaken.  It  is  becoming 
natural  for  them  to  draw  away  from  promises  for  the 
future  in  order  to  get  more  out  of  the  present  than 
they  have  ever  jet  had;  and  so  the  charm  of  a  place 
that  acknowledges  the  pursuit  of  happiness  as  its 
highest  claim  is  making  itself  felt  far  and  near;  and 
all  the  people  who  come  here  speak  of  the  health- 
giving  element  they  find  in  the  atmosphere,  and  tell 
how  every  moment  seems  fraught  with  power  and 
blessing. 

At  present  our  town  is  called  Sea  Breeze;  but  after 
a  while  we  shall  give  it  another  name.  As  citizens  of 
the  only  spot  on  earth  devoted  to  a  search  for  happi- 
ness right  here  in  this  world  and  right  now,  it  surely 
deserves  a  better  name,  and  when  the  improvements 
we  are  making  shall  have  ripened  into  beauty  com- 
mensurate with  the  natural  beauty  of  the  place,  we 
will  accept  the  name  that  even  now  by  a  sort  of 
general  consent  is  being  bestowed  upon  it — that  of 
"The  City  Beautiful."  The  two  words  "happiness" 
and  "beauty11  are  our  beacon  lights.     Every  effort  we 


A   SEARCH    FOR   FREEDOM.  365 

are  making  points  straight  in  their  direction.  These 
efforts  point  over  and  beyond  the  clamor  that,  even  as 
I  write,  is  swelling  up  from  the  inharmonious  con- 
dition of  those  who  are  denying  this  life  in  order  to 
make  preparation  for  a  supposititious  better  one  when 
this  is  ended.  They  are  pointing  over  and  beyond  the 
cries  of  poverty  and  hard  times  now  ascending  day 
and  night  in  one  unbroken  wail.  They  are  pointing 
over  and  beyond  the  distress  and  pain  of  a  thousand 
deeply  grounded  beliefs  in  the  God-ordained  omnipo- 
tence of  disease  and  death;  pointing  over  and  beyond 
all  so-called  deplorable  conditions  to  the  great  peace 
and  joy  that  comes  from  knowing  that  all  is  good; 
that  vital .  force — life — is  self-existent,  omnipotent, 
omniscient,  omnipresent,  and  that  it  flows  into  man's 
statement  of  being,  whether  he  makes  that  statement 
under  the  delusion  of  the  world's  present  beliefs  in 
disease,  old  age  and  death,  or  in  the  knowledge  of  his 
power  to  overcome  all  his  supposed  limitations  and 
stand  in  the  freedom  of  self-creativeness — a  veritable 
god. 

This  place  is  not  a  colony  as  many  persons  believe. 
It  is  simply  an  assemblage  of  individuals  who  are 
seeking  to  individualize  themselves  more  powerfully 
still  through  a  search  for  higher  truths.     We  have  no 


366  A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM. 

business  interests  which  unite  us,  any  more  than  the 
citizens  of  any  other  village  have.  Some  of  us  only 
live  here  part  of  the  year,  having  business  elsewhere. 
Freedom  has  been  the  object  of  our  search,  and  free- 
dom is  only  found  in  lines  of  thought  and  action  that 
are  themselves  free.  Some  correspondents  would  put 
me  under  bond  to  remain  here  forever,  but  I  will  not 
submit  to  a  bond.  I  am  under  the  law  of  attraction; 
and  while  I  am  now  so  strongly  attracted  to  this 
place  as  to  feel  that  I  shall  never  permanently  leave 
it,  yet  I  shall  not  pledge  myself  to  remain  in  case  the 
attraction  ceased. 

And  again;  the  school  spoken  of  is  only  in  embryo 
as  yet.  It  is  an  ideal  to  be  built  in  the  future.  Let 
who  will  come  and  help  externalize  this  ideal.  It  is 
their  business  as  much  as  mine.  I  am  doing  what  I 
can  in  holding  Mental  Science  classes  here  every 
winter;  and  though  this  is  a  good  thing  to  do,  yet  it 
is  not  so  good  as  it  would  be  if  others  who  are  com- 
petent would  take  hold  and  add  the  other  departments 
of  study  that  would  develop  the  undertaking  into  a 
great  national  institution  for  an  absolutely  un- 
trammelled education. 

For  my  part  I  feel  that  I  can  wait.  I  know  that 
this  thing  is  a  growth,  and  not  a  building,  and  that 


A   SEARCH   FOR   FREEDOM.  367 

growth  is  slow.  I  feel  as  if  the  years  are  all  mine, 
and  I  need  not  hurry.  Indeed,  I  know  that  I  am 
simply  in  the  beginning  of  the  new  time,  which  is 
carrying  the  race  from  under  the  rule  of  brute  force 
into  that  of  pure  attraction;  and  I  am  patient  as 
eternal  hope  can  make  me,  and  happy  beyond  the 
power  of  words  to  tell. 


OUR     PUBLICATIONS. 

A  Blossom  of  the  Century.  By  Helen  Wilmans. 
Cloth  bound,  $1. 

Oh  World,  Such  as  I  Have  Give  I  Unto  Thee. 
By  Helen  Wilmans  and  Ada  Wilmans  Powers.  Paper, 
2  vols.,  50  cents  each. 

The  Beginning  of  Day — A  Dream  of  Paradise. 
By  Helen  Wilmans.     Paper,  25  cents. 

The  Home  Course  in  Mental  Science.  Twenty 
Lessons.     By  Helen  Wilmans.     $5  for  the  set. 

Poverty  and  Its  Cure.  By  Helen  Wilmans.  25 
cents. 

Metaphysical  Essays.  By  C.  C.  Post.  Paper,  30 
cents  ;    cloth,  50  cents. 

Our  Places  in  the  Universal  Zodiac.  By  W.  J. 
Colville.     Paper,  50  cents;   cloth,  $1. 

A  History  of  Theosophy.       By  W.  J.  Colville. 

Paper,  50  cents  ;    cloth,  $1. 

Freedom.  A  sixteen-page  weekly  paper,  devoted  to 
the  exposition  of  Mental  Science  ideas.  Price  $1  per 
year. 

For  any  of  the  above  works  send  to  our  Publishing 
House.     Address 

C.  C.  POST, 

Sea  Breeze,  Florida. 


RETURN        CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
TO^^        Main  Library  •  198  Main  Stacks 

LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

A      ■    ■II1"  >    ■         m 

2 

3 

NRLF 

S 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS. 

Renewls  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling  642-3405. 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

SENT  ON  ILL 

JUN  2  5  1997 

11   C  RPRKF|  FY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
FORM  NO.  DD6                                                     BERKELEY,  CA  94720-6000 

968263 

C<Vinf 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


